


Fireside Sketches

by GroovyKat



Series: Gallifrey [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:00:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26292286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GroovyKat/pseuds/GroovyKat
Summary: Missing scenes from my Gallifrey Series....
Relationships: Irving Braxiatel/Romana II, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Series: Gallifrey [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1754998
Comments: 27
Kudos: 47





	1. A Visit to the Estates

**Author's Note:**

> These little ficlets are snippets and scenes that were referred to, but never actually written in my stories.
> 
> Taking vacation time with the family means no "real" sit at the keyboard writing time. This makes me itch ... I really do need to write...
> 
> I am part of a Doctor/Rose fic writing Discord Group that was put together by a lovely group of writer peeps from right here. (let me know if you want to come play!) So during the evenings of my vacay, when I grab a Moscow Mule and sit by the firepit, we chat about all sorts of very interesting things ... including each other's works. I received a request for a missing scene from Reclaiming Gallifrey and thought: Well, okay, let's sketch something out!
> 
> That evening by the fire, I tortured the guys with a live-time writing session using my iphone... That evening rolled into the next evening, then the next, until I'd ended up staring at my iphone screen, thumb typing on a very awkward little keyboard with only a 2000 character limit, for a couple of hours for a whole week. While chuckling and laughing at the comments, gifs, memes, and fanart pics the would pop up between each less-than-2000-characters post.
> 
> And let me just say that writing an entire fic on an iPhone is a dreadfully frustrating experience....
> 
> I tell you, though, live writing for an audience is a heck of an experience. No ability to go back and make changes or format properly, and so you rely on the flow to push you forward.... It's fun, but nerve wracking, because what you post you post ... there's no going back to fix the oops to take another direction.
> 
> Initially, I was not going to post here, but my peeps encouraged me to do so. The_Plot_Thinens was wonderful in retrieving each and every one of my mini posts throughout a messy thread for me to pull it all together into something readable. You are a legend, my lovely ...
> 
> So to my peeps at Discord, thank you for hanging around and watching me write ... you guys are absolutely awesome!
> 
> And now ... to the writing!
> 
> Aelwyn, The_Plot_Thinens, GingerGoldRose, TimeLadyHope, Hudine, SpiritofEowyn, and my wonderful Lady_Inari ... I blame you all entirely for these sketches! Hearts to you guys!

Missing Scene: With the danger presented to Rose, the Doctor and the entire group at Rose's house, Brax and Romana head to the Estates to pick up Jackie Tyler for a trip to Estrail. 

Why?: How would Brax react to the Estates?

Timeline: As the group leave London to escape Rassilon

~~oooOOOooo~~

There was an expression of distaste on Braxiatel’s face as he watched an empty, dirty paper back get blown across a dusty tarmac courtyard. The bag lifted, twisted, fluttered and flapped in the air before him, before it fell exhausted in a heap on the ground.

It wasn’t the only thing in this place that turned his nose. Smells that he felt should never be identified assaulted his olfactory senses. Smells that he felt were now permanently etched into his psyche, never to be forgotten again.

“Are you quite sure we are in the right place, Romana?” He asked with a frown at a rodent scuttling across the bitumen. “I think you may have made an error with the coordinates.”

Romana exhaled a small sound of impatience and annoyance toward his question. “The coordinates are good, Brax,” she answered him. “The same location attended by Andred each time he was tasked with this duty.”

He huffed with distaste but paused a moment to admire some graffiti on a wall. “Well, at least _some_ effort has been made to add class.” He rubbed at his chin. “I do wonder about the influence of this piece in particular. Abstract, yet not.”

Romana paused to assess the art for herself. She angled her head to one side, analysed the strokes and lines that did appear to make up a word ... or a few ... but being illiterate in British slang, she merely shook her head and continued walking. “I don’t think that would be a worthy addition to your collection, Brax. So, whatever you’re thinking: don’t.”

“A rustic form of art from the 21st Century of Earth?” He hummed. “Well, Romana, I don’t see why not.”

“I’m not waiting for you, Brax,” she warned hotly over her shoulder. “So do keep up.”

“As you wish, My Lady,” he drawled low as he briskly walked to catch up. He let out a breath as he passed a disheveled drunkard struggling to get up out of a gutter. “I fear that you may require my assistance. So, I should remain at your side.”

“I’m quite capable of holding my own, thank you,” she replied. Although a look toward a group of young men huddled in a corner smoking cigarettes and drinking from bottles hidden in paper bags, and she did step a little closer to his side.

He walked a little taller, an attempt to appear larger than he was, and spared a look toward the group. There were only four of them ... a relatively easy victory of it came to that.

One of the young men gave him a warning sneer and flicked the butt of his cigarette in their direction. It didn’t land anywhere near them, of course, but it was warning enough. 

“Yes, yes,” he drowned with a huff. “Territorialism. Typical of a Human pack.”

“Oh please,” Romana said to him with light warning. “I understand your disdain for Humans knows no bounds ...”

“Uh-uh-uh,” he interrupted with a waggle of his finger. There are bounds to my loathing , my dear. Recall that I hold a human in the highest of regard.”

“Rose is a special case.”

“And proof that it is possible for my opinion to be swayed.”

Romana scoffed. “When Leela says that she can tell that you’re lying because your mouth is moving, she doesn’t jest.”

“Therein lies another Human I admire.” He winced at the strong smell of onions and garlic across the courtyard. “Oh. By the will of Omega. Is using that much really necessary.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Herbs and spices,” he clarified. “The culinary arts of some people’s cooking really is subjective ...” he waved his hand in front of his nose. “A terribly strong aroma.”

Romana chuckled. “It’s better than urine, Brax.”

“Not by much.”

A small group of young children, their faces as dusty as their clothing, ran by the pair. Their cheers and yells we’re jovial and excited. It was clear they were happy to be outside on that was a delightfully warm London day. Romana looked upon the children with a smile, and she touched her fingers to her belly. “The sound of children at play, Brax. Isn’t it wonderful?”

He followed her line of sight toward the children, took in their playful pushing and shoving, then looked back to his wife. His expression softened at the longing look on her face.

“And soon, those sounds of joy will ring inside our own corridors, Romana.” He looked to her hand with a smile. “And not a moment too soon.”

“I will be happy to hear it across the lands of Gallifrey,” she answered softly. “Ours, as well as the children of our people.” She looked ahead and toward a rather nondescript looking white building that stood several storeys high. A light frown crossed her face at the rather unkept appearance, and of flights of stairs instead of elevators. “Oh. We still have quite a walk ahead of us.”

“I would recommend that you wait here and let me retrieve Rose’s mother...” he paused to look around. “But I am quite loathe to leave you unattended.”

Romana did smile as she shook her head at him. She had a couple of responses in mind for him, but chose only to hum with amusement instead.

Braxiatel scratched at his hair and screwed up his nose. “There are times, Romana, when I have to admit that I am not always as thorough in my planning as I think I am.”

She hiccuped in surprise at that admission. “Oh. Really?” She looked toward him curiously. “And what has brought on this revelation?”

“This,” he answered with a gesture of indication as to their current environment. “How I have allowed the woman who gave my brother that amazing woman ...”

“And in turn: you,” she added with a smile.

“Indeed,” he admitted. “And me as well. And how I have allowed that she languish in an abode of this ... low level.”

“Mind your arrogance,” she warned. “And your judgment.”

“I am merely saying...”

“Judging.”

He huffed. “Well, yes, fine. I judge.”

“Please don’t.”

A moan, and then a grunt seemed to end their conversation almost immediately. As if the universe wishes to prove Braxiatel’s judgment accurate, a scruffy male, his clothing torn and disheveled, staggered toward them both. There was a almost vacant expression in his eyes when he held out his hand and gave them a smile missing several teeth.

“Could you spare some change?” He asked, more toward Romana than her companion.

“Could you possibly shower?” Braxiatel muttered under his breath as he took a protective step in front of his wife.

“Just a few coins?” The man asked more urgently. “I haven’t eaten in three days, and...”

“Oh my dear man,” Romana cooed sympathetically as she tried to step around her protector. “Brax, you have Earth money?”

“Yes,” he answered. “But ....”

“Give him some, please.”

“Romana.”

“I said for you to give this poor man some.”

Braxiatel lifted his eyes to the sky and let out a long breath as he pulled a wallet from his pocket. He drew out a pair of £100 notes and handed them over. “I do hope this will get you a good meal... and perhaps a shower.”

The old gentleman looked down at his hand, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He said nothing, just looked down at his open hand.

“Is that inadequate?” Braxiatel huffed with a shake in his head as he pulled out another £100. “I’m not really from around these parts, so do forgive me.” He dropped the additional bill into the gent’s hand. “Now to excuse me. Time is short for us, and we have things to do.”

Romana’s eyes were wide. Unlike her somewhat clueless, and financially privileged husband, she knew the value of a British Pound. She bit at her lip and hooked her arm through his as she caught the looks of the group of men who had been drinking and smoking in an alcove. “I am not entirely sure that was a good idea,” she murmured to herself. “We should not bring attention to ourselves.”

He groaned. “Well do make up your mind.”

Romana gave him a sideward glance. It was not one of annoyance or frustration, merely a look of admiration toward her beloved and his adorable cluelessness. “There are times, Brax, where I find you to be quite ...” she hiccuped with surprise when a young man approached them dressed in an oversized branded tracksuit, the pants hung low despite a bumbag at his waist. His hat was seated with the peak to one side, and he wore what was quite plainly a cheap gold-plated chain around his neck.

“Bit rich for these parts, don’t ya think?” He drawled with a light sneer in his lip. “Get lost on your way to the palace?”

Braxiatel looked the young man up and down with clear distaste. He lifted his shoulders and his head in his most regal of Council postures. “I don’t quite understand the meaning of your comment, Human, but I can assure you we are by no means lost....” He held his breath a moment. “Unfortunately.”

Romana said his name under her breath in warning, but said. I thing further as the young man beat her to it. He thumbed at his nose, took a look around him, then looked back to Braxiatel. “Yeah. Thing is, right, that people round here ... they don’t much like it when the rich folk wander in and start flashing around cash.” He lifted his chin, making sure to look down along his nose at him. “Unless you’re willing to share, and all that.”

Braxiatel’s brow flicked. “Share?”

“Well, right. When I say share, I’m not suggesting it on a voluntary basis. Get my drift?”

The sudden shift in the young man’s eyes from friendly to dangerous happened with such horrific speed, that Braxiatel almost missed the warning signs completely. A flick of a small pocket knife from the man almost caught his cuff links. It was only a sudden shift to pull Romana behind him that saved his blazer from requiring repair.

His eyes flashed angrily, but he bit down the full fury within to merely sneer at the man.

“Now is this really necessary?”

“Hand over the wallet,” he growled with the flick of fingers not holding the knife. He kept the point of his blade held out ahead of him with warning. “And the watch, as well.”

“I will do no such thing,” Braxiatel snarled. “Now I will issue caution for you to reconsider your next action. Consider it very carefully. I am not a creature you wish to engage with.”

“Brax,” Romana Warner quietly. “Please do as he asks. We do not need to make a scene.”

“I think you will find that it is this ... this ...creature making the scene. Not me.” He argued with disgust. “And if he wishes to relieve me of any item, then it will require effort on his part.”

“I’d listen to your Princess if I were you,” the thief warned. She looked toward her and licked his lip, inhaling with a seedy shudder in his breath. “And isn’t she a fine one?” He blew her a kiss. “Ever has a real man, love? Bet I could have you howling to the moon.”

A growl issued deep inside the chest of Braxiatel, rising only as far as his throat to rumble out with echo.

“What did you just say?” He seethed through his teeth as his head gave a rather obvious tic.

“Oh no,” Romana muttered with a wince. She held tightly onto her husband’s arm. “Brax. This is not the time for this.”

He ignored her warning. He felt his shackles rise and his heartsbeat quicken inside his chest. “Do you know what you will unleash by issuing clear challenge toward my mate?” He stepped forward a short stride. His lip curled and his eyes flashed wide. All colour in his eyes was absent save the black dilation of his pupils that swirled with all of the anger of the universe.

The man didn’t quite take the blackened eyes and rise in height of his planned victim as any form of warning to back off. Instead he merely laughed as he made a shank-like stabbing motion with his knife. “Got your challenge right here.”

Braxiatel’s eyes dropped toward the knife and slowly drew back upward toward the aggressor. “If you think this is the first time that I have had a weapon of that nature thrust in my direction, cretin, then you are quite sorely mistaken.” He sniffed hard enough to wrinkle his nose. “I have been threatened by more terrifying individuals than you. Of that you can be assured. I am friends with a warrior of the Sevateem tribe - who is far more gifted at wielding a blade than the likes of you will ever be - this is a daily occurrence for me.”

The man had little to absolutely no clue as to what this man was on about, but he certainly wasn’t going to let him - an unarmed rich boy - get the upper hand. He held onto the handle of his blade a little tighter. “I’m done playing with you now, mate. So hand over your wallet or I will cut you.” He sneered. “Then, I’ll take your little woman here and show her what a real man is capable of.”

Now Braxiatel was pretty sure he knew exactly would happen next - and that was a snap of his hand clutching at the throat of this fool and holding him a decent two feet off the ground as he successfully choked the life out of him - so imagine his utter shock and surprise to find that the honour of doing such was taken from him by the very woman he was so eager to protect.

Romana shot forward on her own, a small device in her hand, and shoved that device into the belly of their would be attacker. She had a sneer of disgust all of her own on her gorgeous face as she activated the device. “Do not think I am incapable of protecting myself,” she growled as the man stiffened up to a horribly upright, muscle-locked posture in front of her. “I am not so easy to threaten, nor be taken by anyone I don’t wish to be taken by.”

She looked downward as an acrid-smelling fluid began to look at his feet, then took a step backward. The man instantly fell into his own filth, a whining indistinguished heap on the tarmac. She leaned down with a delicate and feminine stoop. “Take this as a lesson, degenerate. Never underestimate how well a princess is able to defend herself.”

She turned her head toward her mate. “Now, come, Braxiatel. We are wasting valuable time.”

He half whimpered as he swallowed and let out a breath. “My Lady. If it has not been said today, do know that my hearts beat for you.”

“I am sure that they do,” she said with a smile as she straightened up to a tall stand and held open her arm for him.

He took her arm and hooked it around his. “Let there never be any doubt as to the depths of my emotion toward you. I am your very devoted and dedicated ....”

“My hearts beat for you as well,” she interrupted with a smile.

“And so if I may express my somewhat urgent desire for our materialization upon Estrail....”

“I wish to ensure that we remove Rose’s mother from these circumstances,” Romana cut in sharply. “She is the mother of a Lungbarrow woman and should therefore be afforded all of the safety and luxuries afforded to your house.”

“Yes,” he drawled long, both disappointed in her change of topic, and surprised at her views upon the supposed luxuries of being raised at Lungbarrow. “If I might express the sentiment you provided me with moments ago, Romana: do mind your privilege and your arrogance.”

“Brax...”

“And Lungbarrow afforded Thete and I the very same luxuries provided to you by the family of Heartshaven.” He growled low. “Very little at all.”

“The Great Houses are not so great,” she mused sadly. “At least, not of late.”

“Not in many centuries, my hearts.”

“Then perhaps we should no longer consider them Great.”

“That will be your decision to make,” he offered tenderly. “When you return to Gallifrey and reclaim your presidency.”

“Perhaps I will,” she said with a sigh as they reached the door to the stairwell. She waited back for just a moment for him to open the door for her, then removed her arm from his to climb the stairs ahead of him. “There is so much we can do, Brax. So much good for our people if we make changes ... significant changes ... to how Gallifrey returns from wartime.”

“Passing such ideals through council, I’m afraid, won’t be easy,” he offered quietly.

“But will I have your support?”

“My undying and devoted support, My Lady President.”

She smiled. “Then that is all I will need.”

They stood as a pair in front of a white door that had a small flap installed at its bottom. A curious feature to the both of them. It seemed large enough to invite an animal of sorts into the abode, which made little sense to them both. They shared a look of question but chose not to dwell on it. Instead Braxiatel raised a hand and rapped his knuckles against wood with peeling white paint on its surface. He quickly pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the paint chips from his hand. He gave Romana a look when he hears a holler from behind the door asking for a minute to put on a shirt.

“Just got out the shower,” Jackie announced without shame as she opened the door, a towel wrapped around her head like an oversized turban. She looked at the two of them with a rise in her brow as she pulled down her shirt to cover her belly. “And who are you, then? Look like you’re a bit out of your way. Don’t see your sort around here much.”

“You have no idea,” Braxiatel muttered with light indignance. He oomphed when Romana gave him a nudge with her elbow.

“Mrs. Tyler,” she began. “It was been a while since we last saw each other.”

Jackie frowned. “Must be a long while, ‘cause I don’t remember either of you.”

“Ahhh yes,” Braxiatel said quickly, pulling out his suave as he held out his hand with invitation to her to drop her hand in his. “With my most sincere apology, my Lady. But we have both regenerated into new incarnations since we last met. I’m Irving, Thete ... I mean, the Doctor’s brother. “. He smiled toward Romana. “And this is my lovely wife, Romana.”

Jackie’s eyes narrowed just slightly as she tried to see any possible resemblance to the pair she’d met on Gallifrey. Then, upon remembering that the bloody Doctor was completely different when he changes, shrugged and gave her hand to him. “Of course you did. Can’t hold onto a face, any one of you.”

“Such is the life of a Time Lord,” he cooed with a smile as he dipped his head to kiss her knuckles. He kept his bow low, but looked up at her with a cheeky smile. “And it does keep the fire in a relationship alive, doesn’t it?”

Romana let out a long groan and rolled her eyes. “Truly inappropriate, Brax.” She looked to Jackie with a warm smile. “My apology for my husband’s rather crude remark.”

“Hardly crude,” Jackie said with a laugh. “Least of all ‘round here. That’s the most polite talk I’ve heard in years.” Her laughter faltered. “Is Rose okay?”

Braxiatel straightened your and releases her hand. “Rose is perfectly fine,” he assured her. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“Showin’ up unannounced,” she answered. “It’s either something’s happened or ...”. She narrowed her eyes. “Or that brother of yours has gotten her knocked up again and you’re here to take me to her because she’s labourin’ and near ready to kill him.”

She held a finger up to him. “And let me tell you this, Irving: if he’s done that to her again, and he’s waited until she’s squeezing it out, and he’s too ill equipped to deal with it, then I’m going to kill him. No bloody regenerations this time, I promise you.”

He chuckled. “I almost wish that was the case.”

Romana shook her head and let out a sigh. “Brax, please.” She softened her look of warning. “May we please come in? There is something that we do need to discuss, and I would prefer that we weren’t standing in a corridor for the conversation.” She looked around them, and then back to Jackie. “It is of a sensitive nature, I am sure you understand.”

Jackie took a step back to allow them room to enter. “Yeah, of course. Don’t mind the mess, haven’t had a chance to clean up. Been a right week at work. Too buggered to do more than a tidy up.” She gestures down the hall. “Make yourself at home, I’ll put on the kettle for tea.”

“That will be unnecessary,” Romana declined politely. “But I do thank you for the offer.”

Braxiatel leaned in to her. “Are you quite sure, dear? Jackie makes the best tea in the universe.”

Jackie purred and touched his shoulder as she walked by him. “And aren’t you a right darling for saying that?”

“The opportunities to indulge in your gifts toward the revered leaf of the tea tree are so few and far between.”

She narrowed one eye at him with suspicion, although there was a light smile on her face. “Now if you were my Rose, then I’d ask you just what you wanted from me.”

His eyes flashed with mild offence. “Well, I simply don’t know what you’re implying, My Lady Jackie.”

Romana laughed. “She knows you so well, Brax.”

“I’m a mother,” Jackie said with a knowing smile. “I’ve seen all the tricks of a sneaky little so’n so madam wanting something.”

“Well I am hardly a madam...”

Jackie smirked on just one side of her face. “Aren’t you?” She then looked to Romana. “You look a little tired, dear. And yet have a little bit of a flow to you. Are you expecting?”

Romana was quite clearly stunned. “How did you know?”

“A mother always knows,” she said with a warm smile. “And my sweet girl, I know your types aren’t always the motherly types, so if’n you find yourself needing a mother’s ear. You just come see me. Okay?”

“I may just take you up on that offer,” Romana said with relief in her voice. She looked toward her husband with a smile. “You know of my support system.”

“That’s why I offered,” Jackie said with a wink. “Always wanted more than one, me. Happy to hold you as my own.” She drew in a sigh. “Seeing as mine is always too busy for her old mum.”

Romana petted her arm. “Rose has simply been the unfortunate victim of unruly timelines, Jackie. I assure you that she holds you inside her heart far more than it seems.”

“Yeah. I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Braxiatel took a seat on a ratty-yet-comfortable recliner in the living room. He shifted somewhat for comfort. “Our visit does come at Rose’s request, Jackie.”

Jackie sat on the couch across from him. She regarded him with an appreciative eye and smiled. “And what request is that? Is she pregnant?”

“Not this time,” he assured her somewhat flatly. “Although I don’t imagine that Thete isn’t ready and willing to sure another child with her. He does tend to appreciate the whole ...”

“The sex,” Jackie said with a sigh. She held up her hand to him to prevent him saying anything. “Oh you don’t have to be gentle with me, Irving. I know what it was like to be young and in love. When the urge strikes, there’s not always care in protection.”

“An image I’d really much rather not have,” he gruffed out. “And rather than attempting to explain to you the rather indelicate ... or delicate ... points of procreation for Time Lords, and Gallifreyans in general, I will say this: should Rose decide that another child should bless their home, he will be an eager father.”

She flicked a brow. “You honestly believe you’re being understandable right now, aren’t you?”

“It’s not complicated.”

“No, but something tells me that you are,” she countered. She looked to Romana. “So? Why are you both here?”

Romana took Jackie’s hand in both of hers and turned to face her. She read the sudden worry in Jackie’s eyes and smiled reassuringly. “We would like to take you to your daughter,” she began gently. “To another planet...”

“Gallifrey?”

Romana shook her head. “It is unfortunate that Gallifrey is currently recovering from the end of the war.” She sighed. “It is still not safe. At least not yet.”

Jackie’s face lengthened long, as though she had information that she wasn’t quite sure that she should share. “War?” She asked almost timidly.

“The Time War,” Braxiatel clarified bluntly. “And yes, Jackie, we are aware of what you think you know about the war’s conclusion.”

“What I think I know,” she echoed with equal bluntness. “I think you mean to say what the Doctor knows.” She purses her lips to a pucker and gave him a stare. “‘Cause I only know what he tells me, yeah?”

Braxiatel hummed.

“Well it’s not like they have Gallifrey Nightly on the tube, is it?” She huffed.

Romana shot Braxiatel a glare. “Do forgive my husband and his rudeness ....”

“Like brother like brother,” Jackie sniffed. “Swear it runs in their blood. What was their dad like?”

“Oh,” Romana said with an awkward sigh. “I really don’t know ...”

“Much the same,” Braxiatel confirmed with a shrug. “It does, indeed, run through the bloodline.” He shifted in the seat with a light wince. “Exacerbated when I encounter filthy degenerates brandishing weapons against us.”

Jackie’s eyes blew wide. “Oh no. That happened? Here?” She turned to Romana and petted the hand that held hers. “Oh, Sweetheart. That must have given you a fright. And in your condition and all.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now you just point him out to me and I’ll give him a right talking to for you.”

“Oh!” Romana exclaimed with her eyes wide. “Absolutely not. I don’t want you putting yourself anywhere near this man.”

Jackie chuckled. “Oh, Sweetheart. I’ve been here long enough, seen these little terrors grow up, know their mums, that I can make them fear God himself.”

Braxiatel smiled widely. “Of that I have no doubt at all.”

Romana chuckled lightly in agreement.

“Come to think of it,” Braxiatel said with a rub at his jaw. “I almost want to let Rassilon come by this way. He’d have his bottom smacked and his ear torn off ....”

Romana groaned long and dropped her head. “Brax, please?”

“Oh, tell me it’s not something you wish to see, my Hearts.”

“I will admit to no such thing, she answered sharply, although with a light smile on her face.

Jackie looked between the two of them. “And who is this Rassibub person, then?”

“Rassilon,” Romana corrected with a smile when Braxiatel spit out a laugh. “He is the current President of Gallifrey.”

Jackie let out a sympathetic sound. “Oh dear. Lost an election, did you?” She petted Romana’s Hand again. “Well you just get back up, Sweetheart. You get back up, you dust yourself off, and next time win that election.”

“If it was only that simple,” Braxiatel said with a deep inhale. “If only...”

Jackie gave him a look with only a single brow lifted. She didn’t quite like the way he said that. “Then you better find a way to make it that simple, Irving. Romana was a fine and wonderful President. Saw her in action for myself, didn’t I? Standing tall and fearless over those boys in silk dresses and their fancy velvet robes...”

Braxiatel smirked. “You make council chambers sound like the Grotto.”

“Near enough to it, I reckon,” she sniffed. “Give ‘em a cigar and a whiskey, and they’re all Hugh Hefner.”

Romana’s brows pinched with question. Judging by her husbands snicker and Jackie’s stern expression, it was probably something that she shouldn’t seek clarification on. Instead she shook her her hand looked back to Jackie. “I am not one who pleasures in taking people outside of their will, so I must ask: will you be agreeable to accompanying Brax and I to Estrail, where you May spend time with Rose and the Children?”

“I’m of half a mind to say no,” she answered with a light curl in her lip. “Just to teach that little madam a lesson. Can’t even come by herself to pick me up, can she? No. Far too many airs and graces to her now to go out of her way to see her old mum.”

Braxiatel frowned. “I really must ask that you reconsider.”

Romana shook her head and let out a small breath. “The Doctor did offer. Jackie,” she began with a small lie. “however, with his somewhat poor piloting performances of late, and the potential for him to land years out of synch with our time Lines, we determined that Brax and I should make the journey, instead.”

“Time retarded Time Lord,” Braxiatel said with a smirk.

“Not going to disagree with you on that,” Jackie admitted with a long sigh. “Can hardly call himself a Time Lord if he can’t actually be on time.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Braxiatel said with a wink. “And so, my Lady, if you wouldn’t mind collecting a few things ... enough for an extended stay if you will ... then we can be off.”

Jackie pulled her hand from Romana’s and nodded her head as she rubbed at her thighs. “I’d you can give me a minute to dry my hair and get dressed properly ....”

“Without question,” Braxiatel said with a smile and a light bow in his head. “But please, do make it quick.”

Jackie rose to a stand and pointed her finger at him. “And just for that, I’m going to go shave my legs, put on my makeup, and take as much time as I can...”

“I’m truly not opposed to putting you over my shoulder, and taking you to our capsule, Jackie,” he warned playfully.

Jackie huffed and shook her head. “In front of your pregnant wife and all....” She gave him a wink as she strode toward the hallway. “Be careful Irving, I just might call your bluff.”


	2. The Wedding of Irving Braxiatel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would be insane for me to not include this header that The_Plot_Thinens added to the document they sent me of all my compiled posts...
> 
> "=====MY BOYFRIEND’S BRAX (and there’s gonna be trouble..Leela, Leela, my boyfriend’s Brax)====="
> 
> This made me laugh a little too hard, and had me singing really cheesy songs.....
> 
> WARNING: Sappy as hell ...

Missing Scene: Brax returns to Gallifrey from the Collection .... and gets married....

Why: Because why not? How does a Time Lord get hitched? And of Brax and Romana .. who would really be the one to ask the other for marriage?

Timeline: After Romana and Rose leave the Collection, and a few months before Brax meets Thete and Rose on Gallifrey ... Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey ....

~~oooOOOOooo~~

The ship rumbled and groaned underneath boots that were proving to be somewhat ineffective against the glowing orange metal under her feet. Romana slipped door to foot in a vain attempt to try and keep her rubber soles from melting as the hot engine fires blazed in the floor below. Sweat beaded on her brow cheeks, small beads of it rolling down the bridge of her nose when they became too large to remain in place. She blew hard at her sweated fringe to attempt to shift it from her eyes. It would have been easier to swipe it with her hand, but they are focused and engaged on the keyboard below a heat-cracked monitor.

How she had managed to activate the self destruct feature on this craft was beyond her. How she had managed to find herself in an abandoned and unstable Dyrosian craft was yet another quandary.

This was supposed to be a friendly assembly of the Dyroes security and political councils. Just a quick meeting between potential allies to forge treaties for trade and political alliance. How in the name of Omega’s Hand had this gone so horribly wrong? The CIA - Narvin - had assured her that all of the appropriate investigations and deep analysis of current alliances and political intentions had been completed to his absolute satisfaction....

....if she made it out of this in one piece, she was going to have some serious words with him.

She could worry about Narvin later. Right now, she had more important matters to deal with: namely, not getting killed.

Leela had disappeared very shortly after their arrival. A darkened ship rather than a welcoming party to greet her materializing capsule had been an immediate alarm inside the mind of her presidential bodyguard. Rather than staying at her side to produce personal protection, Leela had shot off into the darkness with the intent to hold any nefarious types planning ambush at the end of a corridor.

Romana has heard nothing of Leela since that moment ... at least 50 microspans ago.

She exhaled a sigh and looked through a wince as she scanned through the data on the screen, trying not to focus on her loneliness right now.

She had no desire to die alone today ... but it certainly appeared this would be the case.

The skipping of her feet on the hot steel floor was becoming more cumbersome to her. The rubber was, indeed, succumbing to the heat and the melt of it was sticking her to the floor. It took far more effort to shift foot to foot now than it had when she’d found the lone terminal.

“Romana!” Leela called from the doorway of this small room at the centre of the ship. “What are you doing?”

Romana hid her expression of relief to hear Leela’s voice. Instead she expressed her annoyance at Leela taking off in the first place. “Where have you been?” She said with a sound through her teeth. “You are supposed to remain at my side when we are off Gallifrey, not take off with a holler the moment we materialize.”

Leela remained at the doorway, her eyes on the circular patches of bright red and orange that spotted the steel floor ahead of her. “I had to make sure that there was no one that wanted to hurt you?” She answered. “You should have stayed with your capsule.”

Romana didn’t look at her. Instead, she skipped to her other foot and focused on the screen. “I had the capsule recalled to Gallifrey. For her safety. The Cronin fields within this ship were...”

“That was our way to freedom,” Leela cut in sharply. “Why did you send the capsule away and not call for Narvin and the CIA to help?”

Romana growled. “Right now, Narvin is not on my most trusted list of people, neither are the CIA.” She skipped to her other foot with a hiss at the burn of the other. “I am very much hoping that he did not send us in here knowing what was here...”

“If he did, Romana, then I will kill him when we return to Gallifrey.”

Romana snorted. “You say that like we will survive this.”

Leela crouched her knees lightly and held out an arm to leap up onto a fallen beam. “Then I shall haunt him from the other side,” she growled as she held out her arms to balance her walk along the thin beam toward her friend. “His hearts will stop when I appear to him...”

Romana dared chuckle at the mental image of Narvin being scared to death by a ghost. Well, if any spirit would be capable of stopping his hearts, it would be the spirit of Leela.

“And I’ll join you in spectrally destroying him.”

Leela dropped down at her side, carefully shifting her feet to keep her leather boots as clear of glowing red metal as she could. “Do you believe that Narvin would betray you like this?” She asked after a moment. “I thought he was your friend?”

Romana exhaled a sigh. “Unfortunately, Leela, my position doesn’t grant me the luxury of having friends.” She swallows sadly. “The more I have trust in another, the more capable they are of betraying me...” she drew in a long breath. “Or causing such great pain when they are gone...”

“Braxiatel,” Leela offered quietly.

“He means nothing to me,” Romana said with a low growl. Hot sweat rolled past her lashes and down her cheek. “Just another ambitious Time Lord using my words ... and my hearts ... against me.”

“He did not choose to leave, Romana,” Leela reminded her. “It was because of the false Doctor....”

“He shouldn’t have set that portal to collapse,” Romana seethed. “He should have let you kill the Burner.”

“I could not,” Leela reminded her. “I was unable to...”

“You are always capable Leela,” Romana growled hotly. “Always!” She sniffed deeply. “Brax is no fool. He is far too brilliant to have set up a trap like that ... that he couldn’t escape...”

“You are correct,” Leela said to her quietly. “Braxiatel is no fool. He does not do things for no reason. Perhaps he did not wish to see his brother killed - not even a false brother - and he did not want you in danger.”

“Are you saying he sacrificed himself?” She scoffed in return.

“It is not the first time.”

“No,” Romana agreed. “But when he has in the past, it wasn’t without a purpose or a plan for return.” She swallowed thickly. “This time, however, I fear it was his last. There is no chance for return.”

“He is Braxiatel,” Leela said with a smile. “He carries the same blood as the Doctor. Do not be so quick to think him gone for good.”

Romana smiles a small curl of her mouth. “I wish I had your faith.”

“I will have faith for us both,” Leela assured her. She took a look around them, and wiped her brow at the increasing heat of the room. “Faith in us, though...” she exhaled long. “I will have to trust you.”

“As a Time Lord, can you put that much faith in me, Leela?”

“I have no choice in the matter.”

Romana chuckled. “No. I don’t think that you do.”

“Can we escape?”

“No,” Romana admitted gravely. “But at lease we can have this ship detonate in empty space where the blast wave won’t cause damage elsewhere.” She wipes moisture from her cheek that was as salty as sweat but fell from her eyes instead of her brow. “Leela. If it is worth anything to you at all, please know that I have always held you in the regard of a close friend. My only friend.”

Leela smiled but didn’t return the sentiment. Instead she grasped Romana’s arm in her hand and lightly nodded her head. “If I am to die, Romana. I am glad that it is with you.”

Romana gave a weak smile and took a step back from the terminal. She folded her arms across her chest and gestured to it with a jut of her chin. “I’ve done what I can. This ship will explode in less than a minute. Plenty of time to say a prayer to the deity in which you hold faith in.” She swallowed. “Say a prayer for me as well.”

They both looked upward as a robotic voice spoke through speakers above them in the thick, angular language of the Dyroes, counting down until the final detonation.

“Goodbye, Leela,” Romana said softly with a warm gaze toward her old friend. “You have to admit, it’s been interesting knowing each other.”

“Yes, it has.”

“And if I may make one last request to you - as a friend?”

Leela looked at her curiously. “And what is that?”

“Hold me,” she requested weakly. “I ... I’ve never sought affection before. I think now might be a good opportunity to try it. Just once. Before I enter the Matrix for the last time.”

Leela moved to Romana, and looped her arms around her shoulders. Romana didn’t return the embrace, although the sigh that she made told Leela the gesture was appreciated ... and very much wanted.

As the countdown to thirty seconds was announced above them, both women winced and braces themselves for the explosion that would erase them from the timeline.

Romana could hear Leela’s breath against her ear. It was loud, almost a whine, more a wheeze that seemed more mechanical than natural.

The whine and wheezing grew louder, stronger, until it was quite clear that the sound wasn’t coming from Leela.

Immediately, Romana shrugged out of her friend’s hold. Hope rose inside her chest as she looked around urgently for what she hoped was a Gallifreyan travel capsule materialising ... and not a moment too soon.

Less than ten feet from where they stood, a tall, silver cylinder began to materialize; its pulsing into reality swift and urgent.

“By the Gods,” Romana breathed out expectantly. “Is it ....?”

Leela grinned widely, her eyes wide with thrill. “A TARDIS!” She exclaimed. “Is it Narvin?”

The capsule materialized fully, and the doors slammed open wide. From within came the sounds of classical music from Earth. A deep voice with a perfect timbre sang along proudly to a language alien to them all.

They stood still in watch.

“Well?” Braxiatel called in a sing song voice from the console. “We don’t have all day. Less than fifteen seconds if the warning alarm is in anyway accurate... and with the Dyroes, who can really say for sure.” He looked through the doors toward them both. “Well? Are you coming?”

Romana found herself having to be pulled into the ship by Leela. She felt Leela’s hand circle tightly around her wrist and then a hard tug as Leela ran on board.

“Do close the doors behind you,” Braxiatel ordered calmly as he moved around the console to set them in flight. He looked up to the rotor column as it whines and wheezed, then looked toward the two women standing stunned in front of the now closed capsule doors.

“Romana!” He boomed out happily. “Leela! Tell me .... did you miss me?”

Romana found herself having to be pulled into the ship by Leela. She felt Leela’s hand circle tightly around her wrist and then a hard tug as Leela ran on board.

“Do close the doors behind you,” Braxiatel ordered calmly as he moved around the console to set them in flight. He looked up to the rotor column as it whines and wheezed, then looked toward the two women standing stunned in front of the now closed capsule doors.

“Romana!” He boomed out happily. “Leela! Tell me .... did you miss me?”

The forced joviality inside of Braxiatel’s voice wasn’t particularly unusual. He often faked pleasantries if only to come across as condescending. Romana certainly took his greeting in that manner and shoved down her feelings of relief (and perhaps a little joy) and narrowed her gaze to a glare. She stalked from the door toward the console.

“And just where have you been?” She asked hotly.

His brows lifted as he spoke in the most condescending manner possible along a droll voice. “Why thank you, Irving, for materialising in for such a timely rescue. It is so wonderful not to have died an explosive death. “

Leela stepped toward him with a roll in her eyes and a shake in her head. “Thank you, Braxiatel. It is good that death is forced to wait a bit longer to hold me inside her eternal embrace.”

He nodded to her in a light and polite bow. “You are very welcome. Leela. And might I say, it is lovely to see you again after so very long.” He lifted his head. “All has been well with you?”

“As well as it can be,” she answered with a light upward tip of one shoulder. “Things on Gallifrey. They have been quite ....”

“We have needed you,” Romana interrupted sharply. “You have been gone for almost an entire century.”

His eyes flared with surprise. “Almost a century?” He looked toward his console - he had been sure that he’d set his ship to search his current timeline, not that far ahead. “Oh. Dear me.”

Leela smirked. “Navigation error, Braxiatel?”

“It would seem so,” he admitted. “Much less time for me, I’m afraid. A little over a decade for me to locate my Capsule and make my grand entrance.”

Leela laughed. “And you complain about the Doctor...”

He flicked up a finger. “Do not make comparison to him, Leela. I simply need to recalibrate a few of my navigational systems. To be expected, I suppose.”

He frowned at the console, his hands on his hips, and let out a breath as he looked toward Romana, who looked positively adorable with a scowl on her face. He gave a light bow. “Do accept my sincere apologies for my tardiness. It has been quite an ordeal on my end...”

“I needed you,” Romana stated firmly.

He held back from returning her sentiment in the manner he wanted to. Instead he sucked in a breath. “But. Navigational error aside, I did show up at precisely the right time to save you both. And that is what matters in the end.”

Romana’s expression softened. “That is true, and so I do thank you, Brax.”

He grinned widely. “Now that’s much better.” He gestured toward a pair of armchairs and a table laden with a silver serving tray atop which was a pot of tea, mugs, and an assortment of baked treats. “Please feel free to have a tea and some biscuits - both of which I procured from Earth - early nineteenth century.” He looked to his monitor with a tight frown. “Allow me to ensure that my coordinates for return to Gallifrey are correct.”

Leela moved toward the tray. Romana remained at Braxiatel’s side. “How have you been?”

“Lonely,” he admitted quietly as he tapped his temple. “Awfully quiet in here this past while.”

“I am sorry,” she offered supportively. “And the alternate Doctor?”

“Dead,” he answered flatly. “My understanding is that he took on the CIA, and wasn’t as successful at assassination as he led us to believe.” He looked down at the keyboard and thought for a moment before typing in new commands. “Although the reliability of that information really is suspect at best. I received word of it via hyper cube when my capsule was mysteriously returned to me at the Collection.”

“And this is where you have been?”

He nodded slowly. “Not for the entire duration of my absence, however about ten years ago, I had an incredible urge to return to the planetoid.”

He lifted his eyes as he tried to recall just why it was so important for him to return to KS-159. Nothing of note stood out and he gave a light shake of his head. “Though don’t ask me why. It was a rather mundane and uneventful ten years.”

“Knowing you,” she offered. “It was important.”

“Perhaps.” He passed a look toward her, inhaling a breath at her remarkable and unaged beauty. It may well have been a century to her, but less than a day could have passed for how remarkable she looked. He drew in a breath and tried to shake his move toward unashamed appreciation of her. “So tell me,” he said with a lift in his voice and chin as he went back to the ship’s controls. “How was it that the two of you ended up on an abandoned ship set to self destruct with no way of escape?“

He flicked a look toward Leela, who was seated on one chair with her feet propped up on the other. He smiled warmly. “Do make yourself comfortable, Leela.”

She waved a hand toward him, then covered her mouth as she struggled to chew a biscuit at the same time. Whatever she said was indecipherable. He looked back to Romana expectantly. “Well?”

She exhaled with a light wince. “It was supposed to be a meeting of alliance with the Dyrosian ruling party. A simple, supposedly cordial affair set by Council.” She looked downward. “Narvin and the intelligence department of the CIA...”

Braxiatel quickly scoffed. “The words intelligence and Narvin rarely belong in the same sentence. Particularly when the word is applied to the department of the CIA responsible for gathering intel.”

“Brax,” she warned under her breath.

“If I am wrong, then I’ll admit it,” he countered. “And wrong is something I very rarely ever am ... if I ever am at all.”

“I suppose in this instance...”

“This instance merely enhances and proves my point, don’t you think?” He waved a hand at her. “Had I been there, I would have ensured that you were not walking into ambush...”

“But you weren’t,” she accused. “You weren’t here. I have had to rely almost exclusively upon the CIA and council.”

“I’m here now,” he stated firmly.

“For how long?”

He heard the accusation in her tone. Not able to counter with anything even remotely satisfying for either of them, he merely lowered his head. “For as long as my lady needs me to be.”

“Don’t you ever leave me again,” she ordered firmly as she turned her back to him with the intention to indulge in the tea she could smell from across the command deck. “Or you will never have the option to return ever again. I will personally see to it.”

He watched her walk away through a lowered head. Under his breath he made a vow and a promise to her; phrasing rarely used among the great houses of Gallifrey because of the significance of its meaning toward another. He saw her back stiffen just slightly, and a shudder run along her spine, but she didn’t turn back to him. With a sigh of sadness he looked back to the monitor blinking the coordinates home. “Promise me, that,” he whispered so quietly that he barely heard it himself. “Accept me, Romana, say you will, and I’ll never leave you again.”

~~ooooOOOoooo~~

The walk through the corridor from the capsule dock toward her office was more of a hard march than an actual walk. It could have been mistaken for a stalk, but as the only prey she sought was already very likely waiting for her in her office, no hint was really necessary. Just a short stride behind her both Braxiatel and Leela walked, both of them having to increase their own strides to keep up.

It had been tempting to ask Romana to pull back her stride to a more presidentially purposeful stride rather than that of an academy professor looking to reprimand an errant cadet, but each step seemed to focus her anger that little bit more... and if he was being honest with himself, Braxiatel certainly was looking forward to seeing Romana unleash her anger upon whomever had sent her into that death trap ...

...and when she was done, he would finish the job on her behalf to ensure that no such mistake could happen ever again.

The speed of her stride, however, made Braxiatel wonder if she would have enough time for her office door to automatically slide open like it should ... he would hate for her to face plant against it. A quick dig in his pocket to retrieve a coin, and he flicked it toward the sensor. The door opened swiftly to allow her entry without having to slow her stride at all.

As expected, Narvin waited quietly beyond the doors to the office. He stood at the wide window that overlooked the city below; turning quickly when Romana entered. He opened his mouth to issue friendly greeting, but held back the words behind a gasp of surprise to see the tall and almost sentinel-like stature of Braxiatel entering behind her.

Romana took his expression of surprise to be for her presence more than any other.

“Taking measurements, Narvin?” She accused sharply.

Narvin snapped a look toward her. His brows drew together in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

She waved her hand around the room. “To prepare for a new president to take office?”

Narvin’s back jerked just slightly at that. A glance at Braxiatel’s somewhat angered expression, and he shot a look toward Romana. “As much as I am tempted to ask if you making such an accusation indicates that you intend on stepping down from you position...” he drew in a breath. “The scowl on the face of Gallifrey’s prodigal son suggests that things with the King is Dyroes didn’t go so well.”

Braxiatel snarled. “I’d say it went perfectly to plan.”

Romana shot Braxiatel a quick glare of warning, then looked back to Narvin. “As incensed as I am right now,” she growled in warning. “I am willing to provide you an opportunity to explain yourself. Bear in mind that you have exactly sixty seconds to make any such explanations before I have you arrested.”

“And for each stutter you make,” Braxiatel warned. “You lose five seconds.”

Narvin looked worriedly between them both. He didn’t dare look toward Leela, he could hear the flick of her fingernail on the tip of the blade she held in her hand .... she was clearly as upset as Romana …

“Before I can make any explanations at all, my Lady President, it might help me to know just what happened.” He pulled his hands to his front, cradling them together underneath the front flap of his tunic. He did his best to look nonplussed under the glares of three very dangerous individuals. “You obviously have me at a disadvantage.”

“Fourty five seconds,” Braxiatel warned darkly.

“And you call yourself a Time Lord,” Narvin snarled. “That was five seconds at best.”

“Lost ten for asking a stupid question,” he replied flatly.

Romana ignored the man standing behind her ... well, his words at any rate. Feeling his protective presence behind her granted her the courage to maintain her ire and demand the answers she sought.

“You sent us into an ambush,” she accused with a snarl. “The ship you sent us to was abandoned and set to self destruct.”

Narvin’s entire expression shifted toward complete shock at her revelation. He pulled his hands free of his tunic and held them in fists at his side. “What did you just say? An ambush?” His head shook. “No. That’s impossible. I analyzed the intelligence provided by the CIA, myself...”

“Dig yourself deeper,” Braxiatel drawled. “Well done.”

Narvin shot a glare toward Braxiatel. “And will you shut up?” He growled.

Braxiatel stepped forward. Fury contorted and creased his features. “When it comes to the safety of my Lady President, I will not ... as you say ... shut up.”

“It hasn’t mattered to you for the past hundred years, Brax,” he shot back in reply. “So don’t start pretending now that your one and only focus in your lives is the Heath and safety of our President.”

“Twenty five seconds,” he shot back in warning. “And I’ll make the call to the Chancellery Guard myself.”

“Gentlemen, please!” Romana demanded. “This is not helping matters.”

“No, but it’s certainly making me feel better,” Braxiatel snarled with a dangerous look toward Narvin.

“Because as usual, it’s all about you, isn’t it, Brax?” Narvin growled.

“This is about the Lady Romana, Leela, and the fact that the both of them would have been killed had I not shown up to rescue them.”

“And Gallifrey thanks you,” Narvin muttered with full condescension in his voice. He then looked toward Romana. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened.” He flicked a finger toward Braxiatel, but kept his eyes on Romana. “And I don’t want to hear it from him.”

Romana held up a hand to Braxiatel herself, preventing him from saying anything more that the groan he managed to utter out. “The ship we were sent to on an assignment that was supposedly fully vetted by you and your team, was a trap. A trap designed to kill any Time Lord that materialised on-board by activating a self destruct sequence that was impossible to deactivate.”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “That is impossible, Romana. Completely impossible. I spoke with the King himself to set up this meeting. I was assured that everything was on-board, and that you were safe.”

“Well clearly we weren’t.” She huffed angrily with a flick of her arms in frustration. “I should have realized from the chronon field levels alone, that something was wrong.” She started to pace. “I sent my capsule back on return coordinates to save her the pain of it....” She exhaled a growl.

“This is not your fault,” Braxiatel offered her.

“No, but I should have known,” she snapped. “All the signs were there, how did I not realize it?

Narvin was quite clearly aghast at the information he was receiving. He drew in deep breaths and shook his head with disbelief. “No. No. I assure you, Romana. This was not intentional.....”

“Clearly it was,” Braxiatel snarled. “Dyrosian ships are not sentient ... certainly not enough to carefully create a plan of assassination against the President of the leading temporal power within this universe.”

Narvin offered him a tired look. “Really, Brax?”

Romana held up her hand to them both. “Cease your arguing, please. This is not the time for the two of you to try and decide which one of you has the largest testicles.”

Both men coughed in shock and surprise that Romana would utter something so unbelievably crude.

“There was obviously someone, whether it be from Gallifrey or Dyroes, who set this elaborate plan of ambush against me. The two of you arguing is not going to determine who it was...”

“No, but I will,” Narvin vowed darkly. “Of that you can be sure....”

“Like she was sure she would be safe under your watch,” Braxiatel accused.

“Enough!” Romana yelled loudly. She looked to Braxiatel with warning. “Narvin will look into this. He will have every answer to my every question before sunrise. You will not interfere. Am I understood?”

Braxiatel gave her a light bow of his head. “As my Lady wishes “ he vowed along a low breath.

Romana rubbed at her brow and let out a long moan as she heard Narvin quickly leave her office. “Leela,” she breathed out long. “Can I ask you to please keep an eye on him? Make sure he doesn’t fall asleep before he finds the answers we need?”

“I shall poke him with the point of my blade if he so much as closed his eyes,” she vowed with a sly smile. She put her hand on Braxiatel’s arm and gave him a smile before she left. “It is good to see you again, Braxiatel. I have missed you.”

“And I, you,” he said with genuine honesty in his tone. “And if you will please report to us the moment that Narvin has found the answer, it would be appreciated.”

Leela looked toward Romana with question, and when she received a nod, quietly left the room; leaving a Braxiatel and Romana alone in her office.

“You don’t have to stay,” Romana said softly as she held herself and walked toward her desk. She didn’t walk to her chair, instead she remained on the other side, just looking toward her chair with sadness.

“I have to disagree,” he answered her with surprising tenderness in his voice. “I don’t believe you should be left alone right now.”

She laughed lightly. “I am where I can be assured of safety,” she ventured with a light waver in her voice.

“Can you?” He asked over her shoulder.

She jerked just lightly at his proximity, enough of a flinch that her shoulder blades touched up against his chest. The slight woody, musky scent of him was a smell she had never forgotten. A light cologne that one had to be in close proximity to actually smell. It was one she often wished would be left behind in his wake ... a lingering scent that promised safety and protection...

....and made her hearts beat so erratically to know he was as close to her as he was.

“Would you think it forward of me to admit that I have missed you?” She admitted with only a whisper.

“As inappropriate as it would be for me to admit that I missed you as well,” he replied against her ear.

She sniffed deeply, inhaled a long draw of breath, and held onto the scent of him inside her chest a moment. When the moment was over, she exhaled and wiped at her dampening eyes. She didn’t look back at him. “I expect that you want me to grant you your title of Cardinal now that you’ve returned?”

He exhaled with some disappointment. “Only if that is my lady’s desire,” he breathed out softly. “And if it is her only desire.”

“What other desire might I have?” She asked with a rueful laugh. “I am hardly permitted any other.”

“I suppose not,” he agreed softly. “And as you are deemed to be denied yours, then so too, I shall be denied mine.”

That made her laugh, and finally she turned to face him. “You? Deny yourself what you truly desire?” She petted both hands on his chest and shook her head lightly. “You break temporal law to satisfy your needs...”

“My material ones, anyway,” he agreed.

She looked at where her hands were seated on his chest. “I somehow think you have none other.”

He lifted a hand to her face, lightly cupping her cheek as he touched his thumb softly to her bottom lip. His eyes closed when she lifted a hand to lightly hold his wrist. “My Lady, if only you knew.”

Romana opened her eyes just slightly and gazed upon his closed eyes with wonder. There was. I way she wanted to read any more into this than she should, but it was hard not to. Braxiatel had always catered to her every whim in the past, but it was always done in a manner full of propriety and respect. The way he held her now, one hand on her waist, the other against her cheek... well is was far beyond propriety. She lightly moved her lower lip, against his thumb, and waited to see his reaction.

He drew in a sharp breath and opened his eyes ... an endless and reverent deep blue.

“I’m tempted to do something right now that I really shouldn’t do,” she warned him with a whisper against his thumb.

“And what is that, My Lady?”

“Romana, please?” She asked softly.

“Only if you call me Irving,” he said with a smile.

“If I do that,” she said with a light crease in her brow. “Then temptation will become a need. And I don’t know if I can.”

Intrigue definitely rose inside him, and Braxiatel lightly tightened the grip of his hand on her waist. “Whatever you need, Romana, it is yours. I vow to...”

She shut him up quickly with a rise up onto her toes to press her lips against his. Immediately his hand slid around her waist to hold firmly across her back. He angled his head just slightly and parted his lips just so, so that she could deepen their connection. The hand he held at her face slid into her hair to lightly cup the back of her head, and a slight sound of both possession and complete submission to her rumbled in the back of his throat.

Before he could dip her down slightly and further deepen their union, she pulled away from him with a gasp. She didn’t quite wipe him from her mouth, but instead touched her fingertips to her lips as she backed away from him.

“I ... I’m sorry,” she whimpered out almost pathetically. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Bereft of her hold, and of their connection, he stood almost defeated in front of her. “Romana...”

“No,” she insisted with a shake of her head. “No, Brax. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ... we shouldn’t ....” She shook her head and half stumbled as she walked toward the door of the office. “I have to go.” She shook her head and touched her hand to the door frame as it woofed open. “I’ll see you ... tomorrow ...”

He watched her leave with an expression of longing and defeat. He could still taste her on his lips, and licked the very centre of his bottom lip to draw in her taste. His eyes remained on the door as it closed behind her.

“Yes, Romana, we should,” he said softly. “By Rassilon, we absolutely should.”

~~oooOOOOooo~~

After having spent more than a decade at the Collection, where he was allowed the absolute privilege of surrounding himself with the finest of arts, and oftentimes the tackiest of trinkets on his desk, Braxiatel found his office on Gallifrey quite ... oh how could it be said politely?

...utterly uninspiring.

It was stale and quite sterile, a place to focus on work and duty alone. Any efforts he made to give it a more relaxed and comfortable feel were quickly railroaded by the cleaning staff at the Capitol. Far too meticulous at their task, the seemed to run via checklist, removing any item that wasn’t on it. Quite frustrating.

He did consider bringing up his frustration toward the nightly thefts of his things, but that discussion would invariably involve speaking with Romana.... a task that was proving quite difficult of late.

Since the evening of his return, and their emotionally charged connection in her office, she had become quite unavailable to him. Whether it was because of her duty, or because she simply chose to avoid him, he couldn’t say for sure.

But what he did know was that his associations with the woman who held his hearts, had dissolved to such a degree that he may as well have been a first year, uninitiated, fringe dwelling council member for all the pull he seemed to have....

....despite being Cardinal for the Prydon Chapter.

A tablet on his desk, the standard council-issued monstrosity of annoyance, lit up brightly and buzzed a low, thick fart-like sound on the painted wooden surface.

Braxiatel looked at the thing with disdain and disgust. Quite possibly another meeting cancellation from the Presidential Office. Weekly meetings were now quarterly discussions, mostly done over the phone.

He didn’t bother to check the notification at all. Instead he sniffed and looked out of his window toward the city below and sipped Southern Mountain Whiskey from a crystal tumbler.

“My schedule is officially clear,” he muttered under his breath. “If I was so inclined, perhaps I would take a quick flight for a round of Golf on Earth ... if the place didn’t completely disgust me.”

A sudden feeling of pressure began to weigh down on him, pushing down into his hearts to drive him into a stoop. He grit his teeth and pressed his hand into the glass ahead of him to try and maintain strong least a halfway dignified stance. His breaths drew in fast and hissed through his teeth and he battled to focus through tunnelled vision.

He knew the sensation that was holding him uncomfortably in place. It was a warning along the time stream ... metaphorical cloister bells if you will ... and one with such obliterating strength that he was sure it was being felt clear across the Capitol. Addendum: clear across all temporal powers across the entire universe.

Something big was on approach. Tremors had been felt for months amongst the time sensitives, and they were increasing in their intensity. The CIA has been performing their own analysis alongside the Matricians to seek out the cause of it. To no avail at all.

Braxiatel had some his own research and analysis. He had a fair idea just what it was ... and who it ultimately involved ... but with his requests for audience with her Lady President being so artfully ignored, he hadn’t shared his findings with anyone.

And quite frankly why should he?

The tremors slowly ebbed down along time’s path, and he was able to draw in a deep breath and straighten himself up. He drew a deep mouthful of his whiskey and swallowed it in one big gulp. He didn’t bother to wince at the burn the alcohol forced at the back of his throat. The whimpered whine of his office door sliding open took away that particular urge. He didn’t bother turning to greet his visitor, instead he watched her reflection in the glass ahead of him and let out a breath.

“My Lady,” he drawled without welcome in his tone. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Romana folded her arms across her chest and remained close to the door rather than approach him. “Typically, when one is in the presence of their President, they turn and offer polite greeting.”

“Typically, one’s President doesn’t show up unannounced,” he countered. “Do forgive my lack of welcome, but I am quite busy right now.”

“Yes,” she drawled. “I can see that I’ve interrupted your quality drinking time.”

He finally turned toward her and held his glass upward. He tipped the glass just slightly and analysed the contents. “Hardly what I would call quality, but one indulges in what is available to them at the time.”

Romana drew in a deep breath that signalled annoyance. “I do not come unannounced,” she said flatly with a gesture toward the tablet on his desk. “I did have my secretary send you a notification. Perhaps if you weren’t otherwise occupied, you might have seen it.”

“Lunch break,” he answered with a shrug in his shoulders. “Of a liquid variety.”

She bit at her lip and nodded slowly. She released the right fold of her arms to hold loosely at her elbows. “You are upset with me,” she noted softly.

He huffed a light chuckle at that. “No, My Lady ...”

“Romana,” she corrected him.

“My Lady,” he repeated. “For me to use such familiar terms for you would indicate a familiar relationship ... of which you have quite clearly demonstrated we no longer have.”

“Brax...”

“Lord Cardinal,” he corrected darkly.

“Brax,” she repeated firmly as she strode closer to him. “Please ....”

“I’m quite surprised you even remember my name,” he cut in petulantly.

She nodded and lowered her head. A wince of regret creased her delicate features. “I can even correct you on being childish,” she admitted. “No then I have acted like an adolescent, myself.”

He hummed, but said nothing. His face wore no expression at all, only his perfected unreadable facade. One he never wore in her presence.

She looked upward to the ceiling and rubbed at her arms. “I don’t know what to tell you, to be honest.”

“A truthful explanation might be nice,” he ventured. “Never once in our entire relationship have you ever hidden yourself from me.” He drew in a breath through his nose. “But ever since that night....”. He closed his eyes, unable to continue. A short breath and he opened his eyes to look at her, his blue eyes sad. “I don’t wish to refer to you as being cruel...”

“But I have been,” she admitted softly. “Caught up in my own question and confusion, I have neglected you completely.”

“Your past confusions and questions have always brought you to me in the past,” he answered her in a low tone with clear hurt. “No matter what kinds of questions you had, no matter how confused, you always came to me. Always.” He sniffed. “I would think that questions and confusion regarding your feelings toward me would be brought to me.”

She laughed softly and looked away from him. “And you think it’s about you, do you?”

“My Lady,” he began. “I know you better than I know myself. I have known you since you were an awkward, and brilliant, first year academy cadet.” He straightened and drew in a breath. “I have watched you grow into the magnificent woman you are. For most of that time I was your closest confidant.” He swallowed. “I will not pretend to be so humble as to think otherwise. Don’t ask me to.”

“No,” she breathed out with a half smile. “It would be insulting for me to expect that of you.”

“But not nearly as insulting as the silence and avoidance you’ve put upon me these past months,” he said thickly, ending his comment with a deep draw from his glass. “Not nearly as insulting at all.”

She swallowed thickly, hard enough to force a wince on her face. “My hearts cannon … should not … beat for you like they do,” she admitted softly. In my position … as President … I’m not permitted that luxury.”

His brows lifted in surprise. He didn’t quite expect her to admit that so readily to him. It caught him so off guard that he was unable to form any kind of rebuttal to it at all.

“When I kissed you,” she continued softly, unable to meet his eyes with hers. “I expected you to push me away, scoff in your usual indignant manner, and remind me of propriety.” She drew in a breath. “I didn’t expect you to return my affection with such equaled desire to mine.”

He sniffed.

She continued talking. “I needed you to push me away, Brax. I did.”

“Why?” He croaked finally.

“I don’t even know,” she said with a flop of her arms to her side. “I really don’t.”

“Do your hearts beat for me?” He asked boldly as he took a stride closer to her. “Do you wish to hold mine in your hands as well?”

“Please don’t ask me that,” she pleaded.

“Are you truly that fearful of the answer?”

“Fearful for your answer to the same,” she replied quietly. “Not the answer that I hold inside my own hearts.”

His hearts wanted to soar with the somewhat sideways confirmation of her feelings toward him, but at the same time, they shattered at her obvious pains for feeling that way.

“Don’t fear my answer,” he offered her with a tender voice.

“I already know,” she said as she slowly closed her eyes. “Brax. I’ve always known.”

“I see,” he drawled. “And to know that you feel the same toward me is in some way abhorrent to you?”

Her head shot up, her eyes wide. “Abhorred, Brax? No. Absolutely not...”

“Then what?”

“It terrifies me,” she clarified. “That I find myself needing someone so much that my hearts cease to beat when they’re not around.” She gestures toward him with a flick of her hand. “And for that person to be you-“

“Not entirely sure how I should be expected to react to that,” he muttered with a clearly offended tone.

“Because I am not worthy of someone like you,” she clarified with a growl more to herself than at him. “Because a man like you, who cannot be tamed, deserves far better than someone already tethered and tied down like I am.”

He blinked with surprise at that. For a moment he wondered if the woman standing in front of him was in some way a false and altered copy of Romana ... a prank sent to him by Narvin for a laugh.

Romana did have emotions within her, deep seated emotions that were oftentimes suppressed in the name of duty. Never before had he heard nor seen her express herself in such an honest, open, and heartfelt way.

He didn’t know how to react… or more importantly, he didn’t know how she might react to his reaction, and that was somewhat terrifying to admit. Typically he could correctly predict any and all reactions that might come from Romana. It was what made being her silent sentinel protector so easy in the halls of the Capitol.

Not anymore it seemed, and without the detailed internal dossier he had on her being updated in any way, he had to tread carefully from here.

“Romana,” he said softly, slowly, and with an extension on the final syllable of her name. “If there is anything in this universe - in all of time and space - that should never be questioned; it is your worth toward anyone or anything.”

She gave a low and single huff of a laugh at that. “My entire life I have endured constant questions about my worth to even exist in this ...” she swallowed. “In your universe.” She held up her hand to stop him from speaking. “Judgment from day one. From everyone. From my tutors at the academy. To the Doctor when we first met ... and from council as I began my political career.” She sniffed. “Not to forget the temporal powers across the universe unable to accept a female in the role of President.”

“You are not Gallifrey’s first female President,” he countered softly. “And Rassilon willing, you will not be the last.”

Another laugh, this one with a higher pitch to it. “One,” she said. “The Imperiatrix. And how did that go the both times she held the sash?”

“A special case,” he ventured flatly. “And not one ever to be repeated.” He dared stride forward, a careful movement as though approaching a timid animal. “You rose from that, Romana. You reclaimed Gallifrey at the very brink of her destruction, and rebuilt a fine and powerful society once more.”

She lifted her chin to look at him, but said nothing.

“And for what it is worth to you, I am so very proud of what you’ve achieved.”

“It means more than I should ever have to admit,” she said softly. “Because it’s been hard, Brax. So hard. Moreso, because I had to do it alone.”

“Alone?” He asked with a somewhat perplexed expression. “I hardly think ....”

“Without you,” she clarified shortly.

“You don’t need me,” he stated with a smile. “You never have.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she answered with a shake in her voice. “I’ve always needed you.”

He shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes tightly on hers. “Romana....”

“And when I finally came to that conclusion,” she interrupted with a wince in her face. “When being so close to you after a century apart... and all I could think of was not politics or seeking your advice and audience, but to seek physical closeness to you...”. She drew in a breath and looked at him with fear in her eyes. “It terrified me.”

“And you ran,” he said with a light huff.

“And I have never done that before,” she said with a nod of her head. “I never run, Brax. Never.”

“No,” he agreed. “You don’t. It is one of the things that I love so very much about you.”

“Love,” she said with a light laugh. “A very human emotion.”

“A human term for it,” he agreed. “Yes.”

“And yet you despise the Humans, and all of their emotions.”

“Not all of them it would seem.”

She closed her eyes and nodded slowly. She opened her eyes again and looked to him with clear vulnerability in her eyes. “And so after many weeks searching myself and trying to seek clarity and understanding about this somewhat human condition I find myself in, I ask you, Braxiatel.” She swallowed. “Do you feel the same way for me as I do for you?”

“I would think the answer to that is, and always has been, quite clear, don’t you?”

“Say it,” she pleaded softly. “And let there be no doubt at all between us.” She stepped forward and placed her hands over his hearts. “Because right now I am leaving myself vulnerable to you. My hearts are in your hands.”

He covered her hands in his, curling his fingers around them and drawing his thumb along her fingers. “My hearts have always been in your hands, My Lady. Never let that be in doubt.”

She drew in a long and deep breath. “Then that leaves us with only one thing to do, doesn’t it?”

He licked at his lip, fully expecting that she meant to kiss him. That the next boundary for them to cross was to reach out with physical connection ... that neither of them would run from.

He lightly lowered his face, ready to help her close the distance between them, ready to taste her once more on his tongue....

...but what she said next froze his hearts inside his chest.

Ancient words in the long abandoned language of their ancestors fell delicately from her lips. Words so rarely spoken that it would be doubtful that they’d be understood by anyone outside of the two of them. Words that swirled inside his mind and shuddered slowly down along his spine. The hands that held hers so tenderly tightened their grip to press them hard against his hearts. Hearts that were shuddering almost dangerously against his chest.

He faltered in his posture, suddenly unsure as to whether or not he had the strength to stand. He held on to her hands as though they were the only thing keeping him standing.

She finished her words with a soft recital of his name, of the part of it he so desperately wanted her to use.

“Irving,” she repeated again softly. “Do you accept my hearts, my mind, and the very essence of me, for our eternity and the lives we have left?”

“My darling Romana,” he answered with a smile. “It would be my honour.”

He recited his acceptance in their ancient tongue, an soft roll of syllables that hitched in her breath and caused her as much falter as her words had caused him. He priced a hand from hers and lifted it toward her cheek. With a gentle slide of his fingers into her hair, he pressed the pads of his fingers against her temple. He recited a name he’d long hidden away from the Time Lord society. The name given to him by his parents, but buried deep once he’d lost them both. A name known only by one other living being: his annoying little brother.

“My wife,” he implored softly afterward. “My hearts. I seek contact with your magnificent mind to bind us as one.”

“Contact,” she answered with emotion staining her voice. “My husband.”


	3. Assassination Attempt of Romana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life as the President of Gallifrey certainly has it's challenges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much a continuation of the Wedding of Irving Braxiatel... Honeymoons aren't really a Gallifreyan thing...
> 
> Written over two nights by the fire I think ... and involved about 5 really potent Moscow Mules (hiccup!) ... The_Plot_Thinens once again did the legendary thing to filter through all of the conversations to pull and compile the posts I made throughout the two evenings.... TPT is an absolute legend, and I can't thank them them enough!
> 
> Anyway ... I hope you enjoy this fireside sketch.
> 
> There is another one in the works right now that has nothing at all to do with my Gallifrey Series ... so this might be the last one for the moment, although a Ten and Rose one isn't too far off happening. :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Reclaiming Gallifrey to be updated tomorrow ...

~~ooooOOOOoooo~~

Timeline: The day after Romana and Brax decided to get married.

Why?: There was an assassination attempt, best we determine what and why.

~~oooOOOooo~~

Romana leaned forward in her chair and lowered her face into her palms. She exhaled a deep moan toward the fifth heated argument that had erupted in the less than two hours since the start of council session.

Cardinals from two chapters were currently at war with each other. Both men were as bullheaded as his opponent, and very eager to raise his voice to overtake the other.

Just why the Patrex and Prydon chapters were fighting, she still didn’t quite understand. Both Cardinals really did - in essence - have the same ideals toward the current topic, but because one wanted one thing, the other obviously went against it.

Typically she would growl and tell the both of them to shut up. Typically she would side with the Cardinal that was supporting her and tell the other to sit quiet because they were going to be overruled....

....typically.

She was definitely on the side of the Prydonian Cardinal. Brax. But, even though the new “relationship” between them was something that had yet to be shared to anyone outside of the two of them, she could feel the accusation of favouritism coming from the Patrex side of the table.

Then, of course, she could feel Braxiatel’s rising victory in the argument. Did he feel that sense of victory because his argument was actually solar systems ahead of his opponent ... or was it because he was her husband now and she should be expected to side with him.

“Ugh,” she muttered to herself, wishing to every deity above that some massive and sudden emergency might rise so she could end this session before having to take a side.

“A small black device on the table in front of her - her phone - buzzed on the table. The urgent vibration of it danced the phone a good half inch from its original position, and she quickly moved to pick it up.

“With apology,” she said with far more eagerness than was appropriate. “But I am expecting a communication from Lord Narvin, and...”

“Communicators are not permitted in council chambers,” the Cerulean Cardinal reminded her coolly. “As our President, I would expect that you would ensure adherence to this....”

“As our Lady indicated,” Braxiatel said with a growl. “She is expecting an important communication from the coordinator of the CIA....”

“Who is fully aware that council is in session,” the Cerulean said with a snarl. “And I would expect that you, Cardinal Braxiatel, would be on the side of propriety....”

“In respecting my Lady President, I am....”

“Both of you, please,” Romana sighed as she rose to a stand, both hands pressed onto the desk in front of her. “This is a communication directly related to the assassination attempt upon me three months ago. I will ask for your understanding in my breach of protocol.” She looked toward her new husband. “Lord Cardinal, will you please accompany me to my office?”

He nodded and rose quickly to a stand. “As my Lady commands,” he answered with a calm, smooth, tone of voice.

“Thank you,” she said with a soft sigh. “As you were directly involved in my rescue, I do feel it necessary that you be kept informed of developments.” She looked to the other members.

“Can I trust you all to cease your infernal bickering and restore order to this meeting?” She walked from the head of the table toward the door. “The people of Gallifrey chose you as their voices to do good for them; to ensure that their voices are heard, and their needs are met. I don’t believe they chose you for your ability to put down and insult your fellow council members.” She walked past Braxiatel and gave him a nod of her head. “Please. Follow me.”

“Yes, my lady,” he drawled with a light bow in his head. He waited until he could fall in a stride behind her and then followed her to the door. He waited until the door was closed behind him to utter out a long growl. “Nerafen is an idiot.”

Romana sighed and shook her head. “Honestly, Brax. In this instance the two of you were being idiots.” She drew in a breath. “Insolent, indignant, childish idiots.”

“I will endeavour not to take offence to that,” he drawled with the petulance he’d been accused of.

“Take as much offence to that as you feel necessary,” she huffed. “It will not change my mind.”

He hummed.

“Please, Brax,” she pleaded softly as they walked toward her office. “Please try a little harder to play nicely with the other Cardinals.”

He stood behind her as the door to her office woodshed open. “Perhaps if they weren’t such inexperienced hot heads, I might.”

Narvin looked at him from the window and smirked. “Inexperienced hot head, Lord Cardinal.” His brow flicked with tease. “Been reading your own personal transcripts again and realizing how in deep over your head you are versus the rest of council?”

“Ouch,” he drolled in reply.

Romana looked at the two of them. “Not in my office,” she warned hotly. “This is my safe haven, the only raised voice will come from me, am I clear?”

“Yes, my Lady,” both men replied simultaneously.

“Good,” she said with a sigh. Her posture straightened slightly. “Narvin, you have new information for me?”

“For you, Romana,” he answered with a hard look toward Braxiatel. “I don’t think that....”

“What you say to me can be said to Braxiatel.” She gestured toward a small seating area. “He has my complete trust - unlike most in this building.”

Braxiatel wore a smug smile as he walked past Narvin to take a seat. Narvin watched with a light scowl on his face.

“Yes,” he drawled. “Of course he does. Because nothing changes, does it, despite all he has done.”

“You mean rescuing our Lady President from assassination after you had failed so miserably in assuming her safety, Coordinator?”

“Pure blind luck,” Narvin groused with displeasure as he took a seat in the chat across the table from Braxiatel.

“Still better than blind incompetence....”

“My Lords,” Romana growled in warning. “What did I tell you? Not in my office.”

Braxiatel took a moment to watch as Romana took a seat at his side. He smiled and then looked across the table. “Shall we reschedule our verbal sparring for 3pm? I believe I have an opening on my calendar for that time.”

“Brax,” Romana warned. She looked toward Narvin, not quite noticing the very slight pinch of curiosity in his eyes as he looked between them. “So, what have you found? I expect this is regarding the Dyroes incident?”

“Yes,” Narvin replied slowly. He noted the closer than usual seat of Romana and Braxiatel, and also the almost comforted light slouch of Romana at their somewhat close proximity. Rather than remark on it, he leaned forward in his seat and leaned his elbows on his knees, cradling his hands in the space between. “I do apologize for the tardiness of releasing my findings, but for very obvious reasons, this does need to be treated .... with care.”

“Not with care,” Braxiatel growled. “These people tried assassinating our President using your office to pull it off.”

Narvin offered him a glare. “And is why it has to be treated carefully. If one of my agents was truly the perpetrator of this ... of this abomination ... then I have to ensure that I have all my circles complete and my lines straight to properly deal with them.”

Romana put her hand atop Braxiatel’s to prevent the retort she knew he had planned. Without thinking, she kept her hand atop his when she looked to Narvin. “And was it?”

“Was it what, my lady?” Narvin answered carefully, trying hard not to look at the joined hands of the pair.

“Was it one of your agents?” Braxiatel answers impatiently. “By Rassilon’s Ghost, don’t tell me you’re truly that stupid.”

Romana squeezed his hand, using that as her warning rather than to vocalize it again. She kept her eyes on Narvin. “Please, Narvin. Continue.”

Narvin nodded his head slowly, with long movements of his head. “I’m afraid that I have to inform you that, yes, I have found evidence of a conspiracy between agents of my department, and rogue members of the Royal Guard of Dyroes.”

Braxiatel growled through gritted teeth and a curl in his lip. Romana merely winced. Their only connection - the touch of their hands - didn’t shift in intensity, but they remained connected.

Narvin’s lip did shift into a downward turn at the very corner, but still he refrained from remarking.... for now ....

“I assure you, Romana, that I have carefully and critically analyzed the intelligence I received - both the information leading toward the assassination attempt, and any communications leading toward and beyond it.” He exhaled hard. “The only person who has reviewed it in its entirety is me.”

Braxiatel’s face contorted into a wince of annoyance. “How can you assure the two of us that you can be trusted?”

Narvin’s rather stoic facade faltered at that. He exhaled a long and hard breath. “I would think, after all we have gone through together, that you could find at least a small amount of trust in me, Brax.”

“I do trust you,” Romana assured him softly. “If I didn’t, I would have had you arrested the moment we returned to Gallifrey.”

He nodded gratefully toward Romana, then looked toward Braxiatel. “I would no less harm our Lady President than you would.” He lowered his eyes to the joined hands of Romana and Braxiatel with a pointed stare. “And if I may offer some advice: you both need to be far more conscious of your affections if you wish to keep your relationship undiscovered by others.” He looked between them both. “As I suspect you are.”

Romana quickly snatched her hand from Braxiatel’s and held it against her chest. She looked down at the tabletop. “I must ask for your discretion, Narvin.” She drew in a deep breath. “It’s still very new for us both.”

“I can tell,” he said with a sigh. “And fairly soon so will others.” He looked to Braxiatel. “I am not the only person in the Capitol who keeps a close eye on the happenings within these halls.”

“And can I rely on your silence?” Romana asked him quietly.

“I’m not in the habit of outing the private lives of others,” he answered with a shrug and a sigh. “Unless it is relevant to crimes, of course.” He likes to Braxiatel. “Might I know of the status of your pairing? Simply courting, or have you married?”

“We have bound ourselves,” Romana admitted with a turn of her head and a smile toward her husband. “Two minds as one.”

“Can’t say it surprises me,” he admitted softly. “My congratulations to the combining of your houses.”

“Thank you,” Romana said with genuine gratitude as her hand found Braxiatel’s once more. “I am ... happy.”

“And to maintain your happiness, I will remind you both to keep this between the three of us.” He swallowed a sigh. “I don’t need to tell you how many problems this will create within council. There won’t need to be assassination attempts ... at least not upon your life, Romana. They may, however, assassinate your character, and his...”

“Which we can handle,” Braxiatel growled. “Should it come to pass.”

Narvin lifted a brow. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that if I were you. The tongues of council members cut far deeper than an assassin’s stander ever would.”

“And speaking of assassination,” Braxiatel said with a growl in his voice. “Tell me who it is that I need to destroy for daring to harm my wife.”

“You might want to refrain from using that term, Brax,” he warned. He looked toward Romana. “I have not yet informed the king of Dyroes to my findings. Even though the bulk of the planning ... and ultimately the execution of the plan ... was at their hand.”

“How many?” She asked. “And do we know why?”

Narvin pursed his lips and breathed out hard through his nose. “Knowing who is involved may answer that question. My Lady.” He flicked his eyes to Braxiatel. “And to be perfectly frank with you; after learning of this new ...” he sighed. “That Braxiatel stands as your mate rather than simply a loyal Cardinal... well I am hesitant to have him know who is responsible.”

“Why not?” Romana asked with a frown.

“Because Brax will kill him,” he answers flatly. “And he won’t be able to control the urge to to so.”

“I see nothing wrong with that outcome,” Braxiatel said with a curl in his lip and a shift in his seat.

Narvin let out a long sigh and shook his head. “Because I don’t imagine this is the only thing this individual has in the timeline. I also don’t imagine that his only alliance is with the renegades of Dyroes.” He sniffed. “If you kill him, then we won’t have the chance to interrogate and possibly counter any other plans that may already be set in motion.”

Romana looked at her lip. “And you believe there are other plans?”

He nodded. “I don’t doubt it in the slightest.” He flicked his eyes to Braxiatel. “Their initial plan was railroaded by your timely rescue. Don’t think for a moment that it will be the only attempt.”

Romana fell back heavily in her seat. She crossed one arm over her belly and covered her face with her other hand. “Of course not.”

“I have arranged with the Chancellery Guard to additional protection.” He looked to Braxiatel. “Which might put a damper on your plans to spend time with your new wife in her quarters.”

“I am Cardinal,” Braxiatel argued with a huff and a puff of his chest. “It should be expected that I-“

“Not bother our Lady President when she is in her own residence,” Narvin reminded him.

“Indeed,” he drawled.

Romana smiled lightly. “You can always dress as a Chancellery Guard....”

“I’m not hearing this,” Narvin groaned out. “Not imagining it, either.” He exhaled. “I can make arrangements so that you won’t be discovered, but that will rely on Braxiatel actually listening and respecting my advice and warning for a change.”

Braxiatel sighed and looked upward. “And so it comes to this.”

Romana petted Braxiatel’s knee and then held her hand there in place. She kept her eyes on him even though she spoke to Narvin. “Brax will do what ask, take your advice, and not think to argue. Will you, Brax?”

“Your wish ....”

“Is your command.” She looked back to Narvin. “Now tell me: which of our council members are involved in this?”

Narvin angled his head to one side. “Interesting that you think it’s more than one.”

Both Braxiatel and Romana shot him wide eyed looks. “Are we looking at more than one?” Braxiatel asked darkly. “More than one treasonous degenerate walking the halls of the Capitol?”

Romana didn’t bother trying to let go of his knee or attempt to have Braxiatel find calm. Instead she leaned forward, her forearms cradled delicately on her knees. “How many?” She asked worriedly. “And how deeply are their associations within Council?”

Narvin swallowed thickly, sharing a look between the pair. “Do keep in mind that my identification has been made ... circumstantially ... at this juncture.” He blew out a breath through pursed lips, then drew in hard through an open mouth. He looked off to one side, not quite wanting to meet eyes with either of them. “I’ve analysed what information I was able to find, compared it to information provided by the Matrix ....”

“How are you able to access the Matrix?” Romana asked with a pinch in her eyes in warning.

“Best you don’t ask,” he replied firmly.

“Best I don’t ask....” she drawled long, obvious displeasure in her tone.

“We can all access the Matrix,” Braxiatel offered. He looked toward Narvin. “We just aren’t supposed to.”

“And sometimes in the course of an investigation, access does become necessary,” Narvin replied. “Such as in this case.” He looked to Romana. “Had I applied through appropriate channels, I would not have found what I needed.”

Romana looked worried by that. “Just what are you suggesting, Narvin?”

“That I am not the only one to access the Matrix in search of information.” He exhaled. “Or make changes within the Matrix....”

Braxiatel growled. “Are you suggesting-“

“I suggest nothing,” Narvin interrupted sharply. “I state as fact that certain individuals with high standing access to the Matrix have attempted - and somehow succeeded - to change and erase very select parts of the Matrix that directly relate to the Dyroes incident.” He smirked. “Fortunately, I have the ability to reverse such changes...”

Braxiatel flicked a brow. “I expect you think I find this in some way impressive, Narvin?”

Romana growled his name in warning and looked toward Narvin. “I am impressed,” she stated with a lift in her chin. “So who?”

“Cardinal Ahera of the Patrex,” he became with a scowl of disgust that one of this own was involved. “Cardinal Ravina of the Dromeian chapter.” He swallowed thickly. “They lead the chapter rebellion that seems to be rising against you ...”

“Against the rule of Prydon,” Braxiatel corrected. “Yes. I have heard grumbling from the lower chapters for quite some time. Can’t say I ever suspected they would do any more than simply grumble about the ruling chapters.”

“I wish you wouldn’t put it that way,” Romana said with a sigh. “We do not rule as one might in a monarchy. We are merely the leading chapter of this millennium.”

“And the one before that,” Braxiatel muttered. “And the one before that.” He looked to her with somewhat tired eyes. “Prydon are the leaders of our society, and very likely always will be.”

Romana shook her head. “There are times, Brax, when you are insufferably arrogant.”

“Times?” Narvin narked with a laugh. “You say there are times?”

“Narvin, please...”

“It is harder to find times where he isn’t self centred and completely arrogant.”

Braxiatel leaned forward just lightly. “To echo my earlier response to one of your attempts at insult, Narvin: Ouch.”

“Of course,” he huffed. “You take pride in it, don’t you?”

“I am a Time Lord,” he answered flatly.

“Yes,” Narvin drawled long. “Yes you are ....” he drew in a breath and looked toward Romana. “Within your council, there are two high ranking treasonous would-be assassins. Several of their like-minded chapter members serve as advisors on the very fringe of council.” He pulled a small thumb drive from a pocket on his tunic and placed it down on the table. He kept his finger held on it to prevent either of the pair from snatching it. “This contains the people that I believe are involved. In total, there are 27 names that exist on the Capitol directory.” He tapped the very tip of his finger on the small drive. “And several non-Gallifreyan accomplices.”

“Non-Gallifreyan?” Romana queried with her brows high. “And from what other planets do we have such brave...”

“Stupid,” Braxiatel corrected sharply. “Hardly brave if they are keeping themselves hidden.”

“As much as this truly pains me to admit,” Narvin said with a lazy wave in Braxiatel’s direction. “I agree with him. They’ve taken great care in trying to remain anonymous. Most terrorist groups prefer to be quite upfront about their activities.”

“That’s true,” Romana said with a sigh. “If not personally, they at least like to call name to their group.” She rubbed at her brow. “And what planets are involved?”

“The Dyroes,” he answered. “Although not their ruling family. It would seem assassination of the Royal house is part of their plan.”

“Which could likely have been achieved at the same time as the attempt upon me,” Romana stated. “How were the ruling family left out of that particular endeavour?”

“They weren’t,” Narvin said with a light sadness to his voice. “They have not been seen nor heard from since their ship left Dyroes.” He held up his hand at the widening of Romana’s eyes. “It isn’t something that has been announced publicly. No official word has been released from the palace.”

“And how did you get this information?” Braxiatel queried. “If the Dyroesian council don’t wish for anyone to know their business, no one knows.”

“It’s my job to find these things out,” Narvin answered flatly. “My methods are my own.”

Braxiatel hummed. “And do your methods also determine the guilty parties on Dyroes?”

“I would think that obvious,” Narvin answered. “Their treason comes from within their own house. Disgruntled family members and advisors with designs on rising to the throne.” He drew in a breath. “Of course, they have had to be careful, and change their original course based on Romana surviving the attempt made upon her life.” His eyes flicked to Romana”a hand as she squeezed Braxiatel’s thigh. He couldn’t fault her for seeking his comfort, it had to be a terrifying moment within her lives. He simply cleared his throat and looked off to one side to ignore the tactile reaction. “With you being able to confirm that the family was not onboard the vessel. They couldn’t very well state that the King has been killed as well.”

Braxiatel felt the slightest of shudders from Romana and slid his arm across her shoulder. He held the hand she held on his knee with his other hand. “You are safe, Romana,” he assured her. “And it is my vow to you that you will always be safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.... not as long as my hearts beat.”

“Lovely sentiment, Brax,” Narvin huffed. “And I will hold you to that vow as much as I expect Romana will. But this does not negate the fact that there will be more attempts made.” He looked around the room. “Even within the confines of the Presidential office.”

“Which much then be fortified “ Braxiatel said with a growl. “With updated and unbreakable security programming - of which I will personally handle - and additional security measures inside the office itself.”

“I already have designs drafted,” Narvin agreed with a nod of his head. “It will involve some structural changes...”

“Of course,” Braxiatel agreed with a nod. “I would expect no less. It is imperative that there can be no outside access to this office...”

“So we will start with replacing the windows,” Narvin said with a lean forward in his chair.

“The planet Xyroen has created a rather impressive glass-like barrier that has proven to be completely impermeable to any weaponry - tested against all known weaponry across the universe. I suggest we work with them to have panels specifically designed with Romana’s office specifications....”

“Will you call, or will I?” Braxiatel queried. “This is not something that can wait. We must begin immediately.”

Romana sighed deeply, but smiled somewhat. As she removed herself from Braxiatel and rose to a stand. She could hear the rather eager conversation between the lads, but chose to stay out of it. It was rare that the two of them agreed on any one thing ... she wasn’t going to interrupt any such moment. Instead, she walked to her desk and stooped to grab a bottle of water from the small fridge beside her desk.

She looked out of the window and drew in a breath as she twisted the cap from the bottle. She lifted it to her lips, but before she would feel the wash of it on her tongue, she heard a whizz and buzz of a laser strike sizzling across the room. The bottle in her hand immediately exploded, spraying water and plastic over her desk, the floor, and down the entire length of her robe.

Romana didn’t have time to register the water on her robe sinking through the fabric, or the yell of her name from across the room. The very next thing she was conscious of was two very strong arms coming around her middle, and the weight of Braxiatel taking her down to the floor. Although a very harsh and quite violent takedown, he was very careful in alignment sure that when her back hit the marble tile of the floor, it was his arms that took the brunt of the force. His hand cupped at the back of her head saved a hard collision. She felt as much as heard the hard crack of his knuckles on the floor.

“Stay down,” he orders her sharply when she dared move against him. He covered her body completely with his and held her firm. “Narvin!”

“On it,” he growled as he lifted his wrist to bark orders into a communicator. “I need emergency teams in the Presidential Office,” he barked out loud as he moved to the window. With a complete lack of fear, he stood at the centre of it, his eyes scanning the tall buildings that surrounded them. “And I want a full scan of the Capitol, a full sweep for laser discharge ... any laser ... any bloody energy discharge from any building directed to our Lady President’s office.” He turned to look at Romana, still protected by The prone form of Braxiatel. “Romana, is she....?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him in a muffled voice. “A bit wet, and a little bit squashed right now ...”

“Cancel emergency medical,” he orders. “But I need an increase in security at the President’s office. full Chancellery Guard.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Romana muttered. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You have no choice in the matter,” Narvin growled.

“I most certainly do have the choice,” she argued hotly as she struggled to get out from underneath Braxiatel.

“No you don’t,” Narvin shot back. “An attempt has been made on your life in your office. Your choice has been removed as a result and you now come under the protection of both the CIA and the Chancellery Guard.”

“No!” She demanded as she finally broke free and moved onto her hands and knees. Quickly she rose to a stand. “I will not have my personal freedoms taken from me like this.”

“Welcome to your Presidency,” Narvin growled with clear and unmistakable condescension.

“I will protect her,” Braxiatel said quietly, severe darkness in his tone. “Call off the guards.”

“And how do you propose to do that, Brax?” Narvin argued. “You are not Chancellery Guard, not CIA. You are a Cardinal, not a protector.”

He looked at him with a glare so dark and dangerous that it had the CIA Coordinator take a full stride backward. “Romana is my mate. My wife. I am her protector.”

“And if you want to keep this marriage of yours quiet, then this isn’t the way to do it,” he warned.

“Do you really think I care about that right now?”

“Narvin’s right,” Romana said softly. She was now on her feet, the front of her robe darkened from the water. She looked to Braxiatel with apology in her eyes. “I’m not ready for anyone to know about us right now. Not when I’m still trying to come to terms with it ... with us.” She swallowed. “You can’t stand as my protector, not without bringing attention to it... attention we don’t need right now.... you can’t become a target, too, Brax. I won’t allow it.”

He narrowed his eyes and huffed. “Then name me the coordinator of the Chancellery Guard,” he ordered. “Take away my Cardinal status if you need to. But make me the head of the Guard, and let me make sure you are safe.”

Romana looked to him with surprise. “You want me to do what? Name you the coordinator of the Guard?” She shook her head. “We already have one.”

“Who was obviously neglecting his duties that you had an attempt made upon your life within your office,” he argued.

“Which is grounds for suspension,” Narvin offered. He pressed his lips together in a frown of thought, then seemed to agree with the idea. “A temporary assignment could be granted to Braxiatel. He will still be a Cardinal, of course.”

“Oh don’t tell me that you’re in support of this?” Romana gasped out incredulously. “It’s madness.”

“Really, the only downside is that he and i will be forced to work together on this,” Narvin said with an exaggerated roll in his eyes. “But I am quite sure that holding that position or no, I would still have him sniffing over my shoulder at all times.”

Braxiatel snorted in agreement.

“So go ahead and name Brax the temporary head of the Chancellery Guard. At least that way there won’t be any sneaking around required, and he won’t be at risk of ending up at the lethal end of a staser.”

Braxiatel lifted a brow. “You say that like I am not capable of sneaking by any guard.”

“It’s not something I doubt, Brax, but as you do prefer the stalking, peacock strut of power, this really for the best.”

Braxiatel smiled.

Romana dropped her forehead into her hand. She was clearly unhappy about this. “Fine,” she said with a light growl. “Place our current coordinator on suspension and name Braxiatel as the interim Coordinator.”

Narvin winced, but nodded. “I’ll head out and let Nephrah know that he’s on suspension until further notice. I will also inform the council of your decision to assign Brax in his place.” He looked at the window, drew a small device from his tunic and aimed it toward the glass. “But first. I am sorry, Romana, but for now, your office view is ...”. He activated the device and a thick sheet of steel came down from a slit in the ceiling. “Now nehraniam steel.”

She watched the natural light from the window disappear behind the steel panel. She sighed deeply. “My new normal, I suppose.”

“Only until we replace the glass,” Braxiatel offered gently.

Narvin cleared his throat. “Right. I’ll give you two a minute.” He looked to Braxiatel. “But don’t be too long. They will expect you both at council chambers to confirm the new order.”

“Thank you, Narvin,” Romana said gratefully. “We will be right behind you.”

“I am sure you will be.” With a nod of his head, he turned and walked out of the office, leaving Romana and Braxiatel alone.

Braxiatel took a step toward Romana. “Are you alright?” He asked gently.

“Not really,” she admitted with a sigh. “But I trust that you will both rectify this current issue quickly.”

“It is my vow to you,” he promised. “Now come on, we should make our way back to chambers.”

“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “We should.” She bit at her lip and watched as he walked toward the door. “But before we do ...”

Braxiatel pauses#d and turned toward her. His expression was one of curiosity. “Yes, my Lady?”

She rushed quickly toward him. Her hands clutched at the front of his robe and pulled him toward her. There was desperation on her face as she lifted up onto her toes and pressed her mouth to his. There was little in the way of finesse or gentleness from her as she urged his mouth open with hers and plunged inside his mouth. She whimpered at the taste of him on her tongue, and then sighed a meeting sound when he readily returned her kiss with equal fervour.

She tugged him into a stumbled walk backward, forcing herself up against the wall, his chest and body pressed hard against hers.

He pressed one hand against the wall, thread the other across her back, and fought for control of their connection with a deeper angle of his head and more purposeful roll of his jaw against hers.

Finally, she managed to escape his lips, panting breathlessly. Each heaving breath rocking her breasts against his chest in an almost torturous manner.

“Contact,” she demanded with a hooded glare and a lick at her lip.

“Romana?” He questioned lightly.

“I need your mind,” she pleaded. “I need you inside me, Irving. Please.”

“Your wish, my Lady,” he bowed with a stroke of his fingertips along her temple. “Is my command.” He kissed the very centre of her brow. “Contact.”


	4. Alien Booty Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evening Fireside #3 by special request, the sleeping bag antics of John Smith and Sarah -- not smutty! Please don't go in expecting pure PWP smut. I would hate to disappoint...
> 
> Next sketch currently on the go: Penguin Love: Narvin tries to woo Carein.

Missing Scene: John Smith and Sara's intimate rendezvous on Benny's dig site.

Why: Eight and Rose? Why not? No no... this was specifically requested. A throw away line that needed to be expanded on....

Timeline: During the Ten years that Rose and Romana were Chameleon Arched and working with Bernice Summerfield. 13 months before they resumed their Time Lord lives.

~~oooOOOooo~~

The fire was lit and roaring pretty high in the centre of the camp. Frank had set this monster up, claimed he had been studying what he called an ancient civilization who specialized in natural forms of pyrotechnics (that was _his_ term, not Bernice’s). Frank called the civilization _ancient_ , but really, they’d only been considered extinct for about one hundred years. Old, perhaps, but not quite ancient.

Anyway, he claimed to have better ideas about setting a decent campfire, so who was she to argue with him?

With the tips of the flames flicking slightly higher than the tops of the tents, she probably should have.

Bernice shook her head and huffed at the rather loud whuff of the fire, and the sharp crackle of wood as she finalized her ... ahem ... pee behind a rock, the location selected specifically to avoid the potential of a shadow-show to the entire group. At the base of a deep gorge with walls that towered well above 80’ either side of the encampment, and a bright roaring fire, selecting the wrong place might very well do that.

The last thing she needed was ....

A whining wheeze of a relative dimensional stabilizer in materialization mode, and her mind switched tracks ever so slightly.

Right. The last thing she needed right now was for the Doctor to show up.

Last thing indeed. That robust, over the top technicoloured idiot had only just left after wreaking havoc all over the site. What the hell was he doing back here so soon?

As she fastened the button of her khaki trousers, she decided to ask him that very question. She zippered up her fly and walked toward the spot where the TARDIS was flickering in and out of existence. By the time it fully materialized, she was waiting with her arms folded across her chest and her foot tapping in the dirt. Her tirade was already formed, rehearsed, and ready in her mind, so all he had to do was open the door.

The doors of the old time ship creaked slowly open and the Doctor poked his head out in a somewhat wary manner. Hidden somewhat in the shadow of one of the tents, Bernice didn’t immediately register just which of the Doctors was at her site. She just assumed, and marched forward with a clench in both hands and a forward lean in her chest to provide the best posture of annoyance that she could. As she neared, however, and the blue-eyes Doctor offered a friendly smile, Bernice let her annoyed posture shift toward a ... toward a different posture of annoyance.

“Oh,” she drawled out with a tiny bit of disappointment that her tirade had to be shelved for now. “It’s you.”

He looked up to the roof of his TARDIS, then along the door, and finally back to her. His eyes were wide and slightly amused. “Expecting someone else?” He stepped fully out the doors and smiled his hands into his trouser pockets. “Wasn’t aware there was more than one blue Police Box flying around all time and space.”

“12 more of you if you want to be a smart arse,” she countered with a small smile. “Hello, Doctor.”

“Hello, indeed,” he replied, taking up position at her side and looking across at the fire he could see towering over the tops of the tents. His lips pursed outward. “Well. That is quite the fire, isn’t it?”

She shrugged. “Was almost tempted to throw you in it, but you’re not quite colourful enough to have the best effect.”

“Ahhhh,” he breathed out through an open mouth. “So you were expecting someone else. Me... well ... but just a different version of me.”

“Not expecting per se,” she corrected. “But ready if he did show up.” She exhaled hard. “By the Goddess you made a mess of it here yesterday.”

“Only yesterday?” He said with a somewhat high pitch in his voice. “Oh. Well, that is unfortunate. I had been planning on materialising at least a week after that ... enough time that you and your team might have ...”. He coughed with discomfort. “Calmed a little.”

“Not bloody likely,” she huffed. “Six weeks of work gone to ruin, and for what? To prevent an insect from breaking free of an ancient urn?”

“An insect capable of wiping out this entire planet,” he scoffed indignantly. “And able to hitch hike off planet and create havoc elsewhere.”

“It was a bug,” Bernice drawled long. “A tiny little bug...”

“Size doesn’t always matter,” he said flatly.

“Yeah, blokes do often say that, don’t they?” She rebutted with a smirk. She held up her hand before he could further counter with more a more detailed dossier description of the creature and its legend. “And it certainly mattered when it came to Cassandra’s boot, didn’t it?”

His lips puckered out. He had nothing.

Bernice cupped her hand around her ear and leaned into him. “What was that, Doctor? Were you going to say I’m right?”

“Never.”

“Of course not.” She smoothed her hands over her hair to tie it back with a brown elastic she had around her wrist. “So what brings you here, anyway?” She questioned. “More bugs? New aliens? Sentient dust protesting our brushes and blown breaths?”

He hummed, but really didn’t answer her.

That made her give him a slightly worried look. She dropped her hands from her pony tail and turned toward him. “Seriously, Doctor. Why are you here? Do I need to have my team pack up? I don’t need to tell you that they’re my responsibility and therefore...”

“Social call,” he cut in quietly. “Just dropping by to say hello.”

“Don’t believe you,” she said low. “You don’t do that ... this whole social thing.”

“First time for everything.”

“Not for you.”

“Oh don’t be so ridiculous,” he scoffed. “I’ve had a first time for everything I’ve ever done. Centuries of travel and each time I materialize it’s my first time to ... do whatever it is I’m there to do.”

“Yeah, still not fully believing it.”

“I suppose I can appreciate that,” he said quietly. “It’s not often we meet for just meeting’s sake, is it.”

“Not often?” She scoffed. “How about never?” She slapped her arms against her sides with an exaggerated shrug. “And even if it’s a random meeting, something always happens.”

“Not this time, I assure you,” he said quietly. “This time, I really did just want to meet an old friend and just ...”. He let that sentence hang.

“Are you alright?” She questioned with friendly concern.

He was still for a moment, the question simply hanging silent between them. Then after a short moment he gave himself a shake and turned to her with a smile. “How about you introduce me to tour team. Properly this time. You know, without the screaming and the yelling and the general fright that I usually receive.”

“And you’re sure that there isn’t anything dangerous or ... evil lurking about.”

“I’m sure,” he replied.

“Quite sure?”

“Very much so,” he answered with a roll in his eyes. “Really, Bernice. Would I lie to you?”

“Of course you would,” she sniffed. “You usually do.”

He chuckled.

“Well, come on, then,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Come and meet my team.”

Bernice rounded the fire to address the five members of her team, all of whom had determined that actually sitting around the fire for discussion didn’t provide for conversation, and so they all sat on one long log on only one side of the inferno.

Sarah and Cassandra sat beside each other, each of them with a bottle of wine in their hands. Beside them were there rather dusty looking fellows that had only a bottle to share between them.

Sarah drew back a long draw from the bottle and used the tilt of her head to turn and face her boss. She swallowed a large mouthful as a gulp and smiled to Bernice as she held up the bottle. “Ready to join us, Benny?” She looked to the figure standing behind her and smiled a cheeky smirk. “Or do you have other plans?”

“Other what?” Bernice popped out, her mind taking a second to catch on to the implication. She followed Sarah’s line of sight and her eyes blew wide with horror. She shot a glare toward her fellow archaeologist. “Oh. Oh by the Goddess, no! With him?” She forced out a shudder and snatched the bottle from Sarah’s hand. “I’d much rather spend the evening alone with this, thank you.” She sniffed. “Or a Kraddaw....”

“I’m really trying not to take offence to that,” the Doctor said with a light chuckle in his chest. “Surprisingly easy, I must admit.”

Sarah held up her hand to him as Bernice took a long draw from the bottle. “I’m Sarah,” she introduced with a smile. “Sarah Trelundar.”

He frowned slightly at that. “What a very unique name.”

“Not really,” Cassandra offered with a look across her sister’s chest toward him. “Not when I’ve got the same name. I’m Cassandra....”

Although curious of the name, and drying to query on it, he instead leaned forward in a polite bow of greeting. “Smith,” he said with a smile. “John Smith.”

At his side, Bernice spat out a small mouthful of wine. “You’re who?”

“John Smith,” he answered more firmly. “Doctor of Archaeology at Oxford....”

The expression on Bernice’s face was comical in the way it was able to both lengthen in shock and wince up in question at the same time. Two sides of one face conveying completely different expressions.

“You’re a professor of what?” She asked hotly. “And from where?”

“Of archaeology,” he repeated slowly as though speaking to a child. “From Oxford.” His eyes sparkled and the speed of his words moved back toward normal. “Surely you’ve heard of it, Bernice. It’s quite well known, you know.”

“Yes,” she drawled slowly as her eyes shifted toward annoyance. “I’m familiar with it, thank you. Spent quite some time there, myself.”

“I know,” he said in a teasingly conspiratorial level of voice. “You are as well known as the locale itself is.”

“You had better not be making any smart implications there, Doc ... I mean, Mr. Smith.”

“John’s fine,” he said with cheer. He clapped his hands and looked across the group at the fire, hoping to find somewhere to sit. “Right! So. What exciting artifacts are we looking for? Pottery and tools? Jewels and treasure?”

Cassandra looked up at him with a small smile. “Oxford, you say? Archaeology professor?”

“Indeed I did,” he answered with excitable breathing as to his voice. “With quite a vast area of knowledge, even if I do say so...”

“And you usually do,” Bernice muttered, leaning around him to pass the bottle back to Sarah. She smirked toward Cassandra, knowing exactly why she’d asked the question. “Doesn’t mean he’s always right, though.”

He watched her curiously as she pulled back from her forward lean and set her hands on her hips. “What do you mean by that?”

“What she means, Professor,” Cassandra began after a mouthful of wine from her bottle. “Is that ... well ... oftentimes those who think they’re all so much cleverer that everyone else ... really aren’t.”

“Yes,” he drawled. “Knew people like that, once. Had one on board my ... errr ... on a dig once...Romana, her name was. Intelligent girl, a little too confident at times because of it.”

Cassandra hummed out. At her side, Sarah snickered. “A student is only as good as her teacher.”

“Often, yes, although they can surpass the their tutors.” He thumbed at his nose and looked to the vacant spot on the log beside Sarah. He gestured toward it. “Do you mind if I ...?”

She looked at the space, then shuffled a little closer to Cassandra to give him some room. “Sure, go ahead.”

He flicked out the back of his coat and sat down rather indelicately beside Sarah. He offered an adorable smile of apology when he half sat on her thigh, then shifted to a more comfortable sit. He leaned forward to look across at Cassandra. “Why the question of my credentials?”

“Your question of why we’re here,” she answered with a lean forward to look toward him. Pottery and tools, jewels and treasure...”

“Yes, yes,” he replied with a nod of his head. “I did say that.” He looked down to Sarah, who was chuckling into the mouth of her bottle enough to cause a musical sound. “You have a very delightful laugh, which is pleasant, but I do need to ask if there is something amusing?”

Sarah nodded, but gestured toward Cassandra. “I’ll let her run with this one.”

“Okay.” He looked to Cassandra. “Run with what, exactly?”

“You do know what planet you landed on, right?”

“I do,” he answered with a slight shield over his impatience. He dared not look toward Bernice, who still stood close to the fire. “We are on Grulpetania-7, fourth planet from the sun in the Darrow system. Uninhabited for, oh, at least 900 years now.”

“And their civilization, Professor.”

“Hunters and gatherers mostly. Rather unevolved,” he sighed. “A meteor strike hit the planet and eliminated all forms of life before it had even really begun.”

“Impressive,” she answered after another swallow of wine. “But only if you’ve only read the dust cover version of them.”

“Truth of them is this,” Sarah jumped in with a tip of her head toward him. “They were ... as more advanced peoples might consider ... unevolved. However, their society was really very unique. This planet really was ill-equipped for creating pieces of art like pottery, or even tools, really. There are certainly no mineral or gem deposits for them to have created any real treasures. They were peaceful gatherers.”

“They buried their dead in a unique manner,” Cassandra continued. “That ensured....”

“Yes, yes,” the Doctor interrupted. “There is little to no decay of their corporeal form. The minerals that are in the lower surface of the planet do not provide the correct conditions for the proliferation and replication of bacteria that would ordinarily decay dead organisms.” He tapped at his lip and looked upward to a navy blue sky. “Due to their unique - yet also somewhat universal physiology, it is believed that a single exhumed corpse, properly protected, could be the key to curing many ailments of other species across the universe.”

“No one comes here in search of treasure, Professor,” Cassandra said flatly. “Anyone who knows anything about archaeology knows that.”

“Sometimes, my dear, treasures are not all that glitters and is gold,” the Doctor answered with a smile. “The greatest treasure one can possess is their health.”

Bernice moaned out long and leaned through to pass both Sarah and Cassandra a new bottle of wine. “Nice save,” she breathed against his ear. “You idiot.”

“I was merely attempting small talk,” he said with a groan.

Sarah leaned back to put the empty bottle on the ground behind her. “Archaeologists don’t do small talk with strange men showing up at a site,” she warned him lightly. “Suspicion and competition. You know how it is.”

“Not surprisingly, yes I do.” He let out a sigh and slumped just lightly. 

It wasn’t a slouch of defeat or upset, instead it was merely a comfortable slouch as though he was shedding off a century of stress.

“It has been a while since I sat still for a moment and just watched the dance of a fire’s flaming arms.” He focused on the flickering wave of the fire. “It is rather magnificent. Alive, hungry, devouring all in its path.” His eyes widened a moment as the flames licked upward to spit off into small glowing motes. “Mindless and without thought.”

“Quite like some women I’ve met,” one of the men guffawed further along the line.

The Doctor’s eyes darkened with horrific speed as they shot toward him. Before he could speak, though, Bernice was already on her way across. “Stephen, what have I told you about saying shit like that? I have warned you and warned you again about the likelihood of my boot ending up snapped off in your arse ... now stand up.” She held up her hand. “Wait, let me loosen up my laces.”

Sarah chuckled low, although it was not a laugh necessarily born of amusement. “Get one or two in him, and I swear the misogyny comes right out of him.”

“He’s an idiot,” Cassandra growled. “I really don’t know why Mr. Braxiatel keeps him on the payroll.” She drew back a sip of her drink. “Slimy piece of handsy filth that he is.”

“I don’t think he knows,” Sarah offered. “And. You know. When he’s not being a prime jackarse, he’s a damn good archaeologist.”

The Doctor let out a low sound, unreadable mostly. “I really don’t believe that Brax has been informed of this type of behaviour. I can tell you that he wouldn’t stand for it.”

“Brax?” Cassandra questioned with somewhat eager curiosity. “Seems familiar. Do you know him?”

“You could say that,” he answered with a light shrug. “We’ve, how you say, bumped into each other here and there.”

“Oh,” Cassandra said with obvious disappointment. “I see.”

Well that was interesting - and at the same time disturbing. It seemed like there may be an interest in the old boy from one of his employees. The Doctor leaned forward. His eyes danced a little when he looked toward Cassandra. “You have an interest in Brax, do you?”

“No,” she answered flatly, then took a deep draw from her bottle. “None at all.”

“Liar,” Sarah chuckled.

“Now, now,” The Doctor said with a smile. “No need for name calling.”

“Call it as I see it,” Sarah said with a shrug. “Cass has been sweet on him since our interview with him. All charming and smooth....”

“He can be that way when he wants to be,” the Doctor agreed. “Could charm members of all persuasions if he so desired.”

“So he’s pretty open then?” Sarah asked with wide eyes.

“Closed book,” the Doctor offered with a shrug. “Not sure he has any interest in any relationship with anyone.” He looked back to the fire. “Well, not in his timeline concurrent with yours at any rate.”

“That ...” Sarah remarked curiously. “Is a very odd thing to say. Concurrent timelines ... sounds like you’re a time traveller or something.”

He groaned. “Slip of the tongue, sorry. Was reading HG Wells on my way here. A rather engaging tale about a time machine.”

“I like that book,” Sarah said with a sigh.

“Do you?”

“I found it to be quite awful,” Cassandra muttered. “Time travel, really. Ludicrous.”

“Hardly,” Sarah said with a groan. “Time Lords, remember? They exist. We’ve met one.”

“Oh yes,” Cassandra said with a roll in her eyes. “The _Doctor_...”

The Doctor tensed at the way she said that name.

“He saved our lives more than once,” Sarah reminded her. “Sure, he’s an arrogant one that you sometimes want to punch in the face, but we still owe him one or two ... or twenty.”

The Doctor let out a breath and leaned forward with the intent to push himself to a stand. “Perhaps I should go.”

Sarah grabbed at his arm. “Leaving already?”

“Yes,” he said with a long sigh. “This was a bad idea.”

She held her bottle to him. “Don’t be daft. It’s the middle of the night. No need for you to be stumbling about in the dark looking for your transport.”

He looked at her hand on his arm, and then into her face, lit brilliantly by the fire. The amber flames danced in her eyes and glistened on her lips. He found himself caught by the sight and stilled. “You are ...” he breathed out. “Beautiful.”

She seemed slightly startled by that but smiled at the compliment. “Anyone can look good in the light of fire.” She petted the log beside her. “But come on. Sit. Benny should be done with Stephen soon enough. Then you two can catch up.”

He slowly shifted back to sit beside her again. His eyes were caught by the flickering amber in her eyes. “I think I just might. If you don’t mind.”

She handed him her bottle. “Have a drink.”

“That’s your bottle,” he noted.

“I don’t have cooties.”

Cassandra chuckled. “So she says, anyway.”

“I’ll take a chance,” he said with a smile as he took the bottle and drew back a deep swig. He swallowed with a light wince and looked at the label. “Heartshaven?” He queried curiously. “Where did you get this?”

“Mr. Braxiatel sent along two cases with our last supply run - at the request of Benny.”

“She does have good taste.”

oooOOOooo

The night drew on in a remarkably slow and lazy manner. There were plenty of stories told, and experiences shared amongst the group, and one by one the members of the party filed off to their tents to sleep off the dizzying effect of Gallifreyan wine.

It surprised the Doctor that both Cassandra and Sarah seemed to be somewhat immune to the effects. Other ladies had consumed a remarkable amount of the wine of Heartshaven, but they both seemed to be very much unaffected by it. Their eyes danced with considerable amusement toward the antics of their camp mates, but amusement really did seem to be the only spark inside them.

He took a look at the bottle that he and Sarah had been sharing - quite innocently enough - and double/checked the alcohol content noted. It did seem to be the full strength variety of wine. And when he analysed his own BAC, he did register a rather impressive count.

Now down to only Casandra, Sarah, and himself, he dared query just why that was.

Both women shared a look and but at their lips when asked. There was mild guilt inside of both of them.

“Okay,” he pressed quietly. “What is your secret?” His brows fell down in a conspiratorial manner. “And more importantly, why?”

Cassandra gestured toward the tents, and the one set up toward the end of the line. “Because when you’re on a site when men like him... you don’t want to risk it.”

“Cass has had problems with him before,” Sarah admitted. “Doesn’t like to take no for an answer...”

“Takes a slap on the face as consent,” Cassandra agreed.

“So therefore, we take pills that we picked up when we headed through Drubera...”

“Medical planet,” the Doctor said with a nod.

“Yeah. Let’s us enjoy the beverage without the loss of inhibition.” She smiled. “We remain in control at all times.”

“You really shouldn’t need to do that,” the Doctor said with a sad tone to his voice.

“When you’re female, John,” Cassandra said. “Yeah, you do. A sad fact of life, I’m afraid.”

“I wish I knew what to say to that,” he said gently. “Without it coming across as just empty platitudes.”

Silence fell across the trio at that point. All that was heard was the loud snoring of one of the guys in their tent and the crackle of the fire that was slowly dying down to glowing embers. A rather spectacular snort and then a ripping fart very quickly dissolved all three of them into laughter.

“I don’t care how old I get,” Sarah said with a wipe at her eyes. “I will never be mature enough not to laugh at a fart.”

“Old Evans,” Cassandra laughed. “No one does them like he does.”

“And on that note,” the Doctor said with a snicker of his own. “Do excuse me. Nature calls.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sarah said, watching as he got up to leave. “We’ll still be here when you’re done. Wet wipes are in a baggy on the rock behind the tents.”

“Thank you,” he called with a wave over his shoulder.

There was a somewhat dopey smile on her face when she looked back to her sister. The smile faltered at the warning look in Cassandra’s eyes.

“What?”

Cassandra drew in a breath. “You like him, don’t you?”

Not one to lie to her sister, Sarah shrunk just slightly. She scooped her hair behind her ear. “He’s a bit fit, yeah.”

Casandra put her hand on Sarah’s knee. “I won’t try and talk you out of anything, Sarah. I can see the attraction clear as day.” She swallowed. “But I will say this: he’s not someone who will be here longer than a day. Think on it before you act, yeah?”

“Thinking about it is different to doing anything,” Sarah said with a swallow. “And anyway. What makes you think he’d be interested anyway?”

“He is,” she confirmed. She smiled and watched his swagger as he walked back still zipping up his fly as he walked. With the glow of the fire at his side, he was granted a silhouette that exuded strength and power. It appeared that time itself seemed to part for him, curling either side of him with curling waves that were almost visible to them both.

Both women let out appreciative sighs . He was majesty, that was for sure.

Sarah let out a long and breathy sound of a word that began with the letter F. There was something inside her, a heavy sense of loss and longing that felt irrational and desperate. She squeezed her eyes tightly together and tried to ignore it.

She drew in deep breaths and prayed for calm.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he took a seat on the log beside her. “You don’t appear well.”

Her eyes opened and she smiled. “Just tired,” she lied. “Been a long day.”

“Call it a night then?” He shifted a glance to Cassandra, who yawned into her elbow. “I guess that’s a yes, then.”

Cassandra nodded in agreement. “It is for me, anyway. Will you be okay?” She asked her sister with a harder look of question in her eye than was really necessary.

Sarah stretched her back and lifted her arms up over her head. She made a sound through her teeth as her back was stretched to its limits. “Might be a good idea. Got a long day tomorrow.”

He exhaled with what seemed like disappointment. “Yes, it is probably a very good idea.”

Cassandra leaned to one side to kiss her sister’s cheek and then drew herself to a stand. “Goodnight, both of you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Cass,” Sarah called back as her sister left the fire. Despite saying she was ready to sleep as well, she didn’t make any effort to move at all.

“Are you going as well?” He asked.

“Do you want me to?” She asked. “You tired?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No. Not exactly. “. He leaned back and looked upward. “On a night like this, with a billion stars shining down from up above, I am quite loathe to close my eyes and miss it.”

She looked upward, leaning back as he was to gaze at the stars. “It’s beautiful,” she cooed with a breath of awe. “Just beautiful.”

He was no longer looking at the sky. He was now focused on her brilliantly enraptured expression as she gazed to the sky above. “Yes. Very.”

She sighed appreciatively. “I spend my entire life in daylight, my eyes on the ground, in holes and caves, always looking down... never up.”

He hummed with understanding and appreciation but said nothing. His eyes were trained on the line of her forehead, eyes, nose and chin.

“Maybe I should remember to look up every once in a while.” She turned her head to look at him, hoping to see the lines of his profile that had captured her attention for much of the evening. She was surprised to find that he was looking at her, rather than to the stars above. She gave him a smile. “You’re supposed to be looking up,” she reminded him. “A billion stars above that you think you’ll miss of you close your eyes.”

“Is there a Mr. Trelundar?” He asked randomly.

“There was when my father was alive,” she answered him with a light laugh. “But If that’s your way of asking if I have a boyfriend or a husband waiting for me.... no. I don’t.”

“How devastating,” he murmured.

Her brows pulled together. “Devastating for who? You’re disappointed that I’m unbound?”

An odd phrasing, but he brushed that off to shake himself with light sheepishness. “Oh. No. No I’m not....”. He frowned at himself. “I don’t know why I said that.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head lightly. Delightfully clueless.

“And you? Is there a Mrs. Smith?”

“No,” he answered on a whisper. “I’m afraid not. I’m unbound much like you are.”

“Good to know,” she whispered with a look toward the fire. “Good to know.”

“Is it?”

She didn’t shift her eyes from the fire. “Yeah.”

He shifted his hand across the log with slow and deliberate movements of his fingers. He kept his eyes on her side profile to see her reaction as he let his fingers touch at hers. She sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth but didn’t flinch or try to pull away when their fingers met. Testing the waters more, he moved his fingers to slip between hers.

Their touch proved to stall his hearts inside his chest.

Her skin was warm, so much warmer than he expected it to be. And the way that heat of hers seem to radiate up along the length of his arm drew his breath completely along a long and drawn exhale. His eyes fell closed as he felt - or more realistically _imagined_ \- a tickle inside his mind. A golden wash of familiarity and longing that seemed to burst forth from the deepest recesses of his mind that was long ago locked from him.

The strength of it shifted him into action, and in a breath, his hand held tightly around hers and his other hand rushed upward to cup at her jaw. He turned toward her, guiding her face with a tender yet urgent touch toward his.

His breath drew in and out hard and he pressed his forehead to hers. He held little to no surprise that she didn’t wince or turn away from him.

Because, by Rassilon, this just felt so right to him.

“Is this okay?” He asked her gently.

Her head nodded lightly, her forehead against his moving him with the same nod. “Yeah,” she answered with a whisper. “Very.” “Good,” he breathed with a kick at his lip. “And this?” “And what?” With a slight shift, he captured her lips with his.

Sarah had expected something unique when he pressed his lips to hers. A spark, starbursts, a swoon ... she drew in a light gasp at the coolness of his lips on hers - hardly unexpected on a cool night - but when he took the part of her lips as invitation to move in a little deeper, the tip of the tongue that touched hers was cool... no, not quite cool, but like ice. As though he’d been eating ice cream or sucking on an ice block before he leaned in to kiss her...

She hadn’t quite been expecting that. Her lightly hooded eyes widened with shock at it, and she drew in a deep gasp. The gasp widened her jaw enough that she was pulled from the touch of his mouth.

He backed off immediately. Apology was carved as a crease across his cheeks and at the corner of his eyes. “I’m very sorry,” he spluttered with a heavy lean away from her. “A little much.”

She pressed her fingers to her lips, the cool touch of his mouth warming quickly. She swallowed behind her fingers. “No,” she gasped. “Not too much, at all.”

He didn’t move closer to her, but his eyes were tender and his voice soft. “Then what’s wrong?”

Her fingers still hovered atop her lips. “Just that you... that your, Ehm. Your ...”. She reddened with light embarrassment. “Your tongue. It felt so cold, I mean cool.” She looked away. “Which sounds rather stupid.”

Tender question gave way to realization, and he smiled with a light drop of his chin toward his chest. “Ahhh. Yes. That.” His lips pressed together and he found himself lifting his hand to touch his fingers to lips cooling after her very heated touch. “It might have been a good idea to warn you about that.”

“About what?”

His hand tenderly walked across the log again toward hers. He watched his fingers once again curl around hers. “I’m not Human,” he admitted quietly. “My core temperature is less than half yours. I would feel like ice by comparison.”

She shifted her seat on the log to face him a little better.

Curiosity danced in her eyes. The eternal student within her was rising to the surface. “What species are you?”

He considered lying and saying he was from Dreokan-V, where the humanoid inhabitants did share the same low core temperature as his own people, but decided against doing so. There was a high chance Sarah was familiar with them, given their ancient history maki go their planet an archaeological playground. He knew so little about them he could bluff his way through it if he tried.

“Gallifreyan,” he answered with honesty that truly surprised him. “I am from Gallifrey.”

Sarah blinked at that. She thought about it a moment, then her eyes crinkled at the corners and she gave him a smile and a wave of disbelief. “Gallifrey? Don’t believe it for a second. Pompous and anti-non-Gallifreyans, the lot of them.” She watched his brow arch high. “You certainly wouldn’t be kissing me if you were one of them.”

“I think you may be thinking of Time Lords,” be ventured carefully. “And yes, yes they are. But Gallifreyans who don’t hold the rank of Time Lord. Well. We’re much nicer.” He held open his arms somewhat playfully. “Like I am. Nice. Friendly. Love other species of people.”

She leaned forward and rested her forearms on her knees in a light slouch. She gave him a smile. “Do you now?”

He could read the tease inside her voice, and the implication that he might just be selling himself as an astral Casanova of sorts. The other brow lifted to join its partner. “Not in the way you’re thinking, Sarah. I’m really not that kind of man.”

Her smile stretched wider. “So you’re saying I’m special, then?”

“Is accepting the gentle advances of a stranger typical for you?” He countered with a tilt in his head.

Her eyes blew wide and she dropped her head to cover her brow in her hand. “Guess I walked into that one, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

She dropped her hand and extended both arms outward across her knees to warm them by the fire. “No.”

“And neither is it for me,” he admitted. His eyes shifted to the fire. “And as it has been ... well ... a very, very long time - considerably more than the amount of time you’ve been alive - since I have felt a desire to ...” he chuckled and lowered his head in between the stretch of his arms. “Then I would suggest that, yes, you must be special.”

“At the risk of sounding all Halmark greeting cards on you by saying the same: I can’t remember the last time I was touched by another, or even had the inclination to want to be touched.” She settled her hand on his knee. “Which must mean that you’re special as well.”

He laughed. “Definitely a Hallmark greeting card.”

“Or at the very least a trashy romance novel.”

He lifted his head and put on a low and very properly narrative tone of voice. “I have never met anyone quite like you,’ the beautiful farm maiden breathed out in a silken whisper of longing. ‘I have waited my entire life and declined the offers of many suitors just waiting for you to come into my life.’”

Sarah laughed into her arms.

“And the farm hand, with his trunk-like arms of steel, and a chest that any woman would want to fall into, he took her into his arms and whispered against her ear of how much he had longed to hold her in his arms. To take her into his bed. To suckle against the milky white flesh of her breast and to make love to her until the first breath of sunlight kissed at the horizon.”

Sarah laughter drew more lyrical and filled with delight. The hand that held his knee tightened its grip. “Stop. Please.”

“Aww,” he whined with false disappointment. “And I was just getting started. Almost to the good and truly trashy part of it.”

“Read a few, have you?”

“Wrote a couple, once upon a time, just for a laugh.” He gave her a wink. “Think they might be in the £1 basket in Tesco.”

“A side gig from being a Professor at Oxford?” She questioned with a laugh. “They must be thrilled.”

“Very much so,” he drawled facetiously. “A proud moment for the tightly wound heads of Oxford.”

Silence fell for a short moment. He held his hand on hers and stroked his thumb along her knuckle. “If you are still ... well ... I’d very much like to try kissing you again.”

“Would you now?” She questioned softly.

“Oh, definitely.”

She sat up from her lean and cupped her hand at his jaw. “Me too,” she admitted softly with a forward lean. “And now I know what to expect...”

He closed the distance quickly and pressed his lips to hers. He brought his hand up to cup at the back of her head and urged her closer to him to open her mouth to him and deepen his connection. This time, when his tongue touched hers, her gasp was more of a mewl.

Sarah had initially been startled by the his cool touch. The Doctor, on the other hand, he was expecting the heat of her. He’d kissed humans before and was always more drawn to the heat of them than he was startled or opposed to it.

But while his past dalliances had given him only an acute and rather localized brush of heat, Sarah’s connection to him seemed to warm him so much deeper than that. It was a warmth that spread along his tongue and against the roof of his mouth. It spread quickly to engulf him almost entirely, down to his feet and throughout his rapidly succumbing mind. Whether or not the cool of him was having a similar effect on her, he didn’t know, but he felt sure that her kiss was warming the ice cold hearts of him to a temperature more aligned with hers.

Rassilon. If a simple kiss of her could do this, just what power would she have on him if she was to give herself to him entirely.

A simple kiss had only been his initial intention. But now ... by the Gods, he wanted to take it further.

Testing his limits just slightly, he pressed himself forward, hoping she’d accept his guidance to lean back against the log. When she did start to lean backward, he lightly pulled his lips from hers. “Is this okay?” He asked against her mouth in a Husky voice.

“Yeah,” she gulped as she pressed her hands against the log behind her. The positioning was awkward, and if he kept leaning her backward, it would become impossible very quickly. She pressed her fingers against his chest to stop his forward movement. “Wait,” she pleaded with a whimper.

He hummed in question. This didn’t seem like a rejection to his increased advance, but he wasn’t going to assume. “Need me to stop?”

“God no,” she replied with a light and single laugh. “Just want to get comfortable.”

He lifted a brow and watched as she sat sideways on the log, bringing one leg either side of it - either side of him.

Then, once sure of her positioning, she grabbed hold of the saying scarf at his throat and pulled him down over her. “Now. Where were we?”

Hovering just shy of completely pressed down on her, the Doctor let out a light breath. She was now open to him, bared as much as wearing cargo shorts and boots would allow. And by the Gods, was she magnificent beneath him. Her swollen lips, the hooded eyes, and the flush of her skin. He could travel the universe for the rest of his lives and never find anything more magnificent than her.

“You are beautiful,” he breathed out. “Magnificent, like a precious rose.”

“This isn’t a trashy novel,” she warned him with another tug at his tie.

“Right,” he breathed out. “No more words. Understood.” He dropped his head and captured her mouth again as he settled himself heavily atop her, his hips firmly locked between her thighs.

There was something instinctive within him that had him rock himself against her as they connected again. The warmth of her mouth still blissfully heated him to his entire core. He wanted more, needed more, and if Sarah was in any way willing to take this further, he wasn’t going to hold himself back.

She wasn’t as yet writhing or moving beneath him. The sounds she made were mere sighs and light moans into his mouth. Shifting his positioning just slightly, he rocked himself with a little more determination. She pulled his mouth from his and tiled her head back as far as her neck would allow. A gasp that was an open mouthed moan passed breathily past her lips.

“That’s the sound I’m looking for,” he chuckled against her throat. “And it’s as beautiful as I hoped it would be.”

She huffed out the name of her deity, that voice of hers filled with undeniable want, but her legs fell open and away from the right hold they had on him.

“Sarah?” He questioned softly. “Are you okay?”

She rolled her chin back down and traced her fingers on his jaw. She kicked at her lip and drew in a sigh. “We can’t do this out here,” she warned him softly. “Not in the open like this.”

“What do you propose?”

She turned her head on the log to look toward the tents. “We could, you know, if you want to...”

“Do you have your own tent?”

She rolled her head back to look up at him. “I do.”

He quickly picked himself up. “Then let’s go.”

“You’re sure?”

He pressed his hands into the log either side of her waist and pushed himself to a quick stand. He held his hand down to her in an offer to help her up. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my lives.”

She giggled when she took his hand and let him pull her up. She ended up being pulled hard against his chest. One hard and chaste kiss against his mouth and she pulled at his hand to lead them both toward the tent.

“We just have to keep quiet, she warned him. “Benny is on one side, Cass is on the other.”

“I’ll try not to let that dampen the mood,” he muttered as he let himself be dragged by the hand toward the tents.

Morning came with the sun shining brightly through the thin canvas of her tent, and the bustling movements of the archaeologists outside preparing coffee, breakfast, and their tools for the day.

The Doctor stared up at the lightly sagging lines of the top edges of the tent against poles and guide wires not quite pulled tightly enough for sharp box-lines. His fingers stroked lightly at Sarah’s sleeping head. Their coupling had lasted long into the very early morning hours. She’d finally collapsed against him, her head in the very centre of his chest only a short hour ago.

He really should have collapsed with exhaustion with her, but he found himself unable to do so. Their parting was inevitable. He didn’t want to waste a single moment of it by closing his eyes and sleeping.

Even if she was sleeping, and drooling a little against his naked chest, this small moment of time was to be cherished and remembered as much as the few hours prior when they shared gasps and silent moans while wrapped around and inside of each other.

He didn’t quite understand what it was about her; just why she seemed to be able to cause a clutch inside his hearts with a mere touch. Why her laugh sang through his soul, and why a tongue-touched smile could practically drive him to his knees.

Though so young in age when compared to his, her eyes seemed to hold a depth and wisdom to them that came from centuries of love and adventure. She was remarkable and would be most unforgettable. From here and until the very end of his lives, he would not ever forget her. Sarah would forever be the woman who turned his head and his mind upside down one night beside a campfire.

A slap at the canvas of the tent, and Bernice’s voice boomed with warning. “Up you get, Sarah. Breakfast’s already on, and while I appreciate that it will probably taste like shit, and end up as a pile of it within an hour, you need the sustenance”

“Go away, Benny,” she whined against the Doctor’s chest. “I’m sleepin’,”

“I’m giving you five minutes” she warned. “And that’s it. We’ve got a lot to get through today.”

“I’m calling in a sick day,” she whined in reply. “I don’t feel well.”

“It’s called being hungover from too much Gallifreyan wine,” she corrected through the tent. “Which doesn’t qualify for sick time. Five minutes.”

Sarah lifted up from the Doctor’s chest with what looked to be extreme effort. Her eyes were half closed, her cheek pink and streaked with a fired line of drool, and her hair a dreadful mess when she looked down at him, but with his enamoured eyes, she looked beautiful to him.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile as he tugged her back down to press a kiss against her mouth. Very quickly, his body remembered the movements and pleasures from only an hour ago and responded quickly in anticipation of experiencing that once again.

“Morning,” she replied with a lazy smile. She felt the press of him against her and hooked her ankle around his knee. A quick tug of her ankle and she had him hovering over her once more.

His lips latched against her throat, and he traced his hands heavily up her leg. He urged it up to hook around his thigh and rocked his hips against her, readying to begin their coupling once more.

There was a shuffle outside her tent and then a fast sound of the zipper being pulled down.

“I’m not messing about, Sarah, you need to .... oh by the Goddess, and what the actual bloody hell!”

The Doctor froze immediately, hoping beyond all hope that the two of them were still covered by Sarah’s sleeping bag.

Bernice was clearly now outside the tent and turned away from it as her voice seemed to be projected away from the tent rather than at it.

“Doctor! What the hell?!”

He groaned out a long sound.

“And I’m _not_ hearing that!” She yelled. “Get.... get off her for the Goddess’ sake, and get out here. I want to kick your arse.”

He looked down at Sarah with apology in his eyes. “This ... is very embarrassing.”

Sarah looked up at him with an amused twinkle in her eye. “A little, maybe.”

“I really hope you’re not in trouble,” he said apologetically.

“Seems to be that you are, not me,” she said with a laugh. She lifted up her head to press a kiss against his mouth. “I’ve no regrets.”

“Nor I,” he said with a smile as he settled back down.

Bernice stuck her head back into the tent, her horror now more angry than embarrassed. She snatched his jacket from the base of the thin mattress and threw it at him. “Get your gear on and clear out!” She demanded. “Gods, I can’t believe you!”

600 years later....

Ten years of separation, his pain and his grief for her loss, his endless search for any sign of her across all time and space ... and finally, his beloved wife was home!

Well, in the TARDIS at any rate. They had yet to materialize on Gallifrey. They’d been hovering in the Vortex now for at least three hours as they tenderly spent some quiet time slowly reconnecting and enjoying becoming one again.

The Doctor had laid silently after they had found mutual completion with each other. His eyes were on the ceiling above them, watching as the lights of distant constellations and nebulas warped and swirled with magnificent colour.

“You were human for ten years,” he said after a moment.

“Yes,” she answered tiredly with a snuggle against his side. She heard a sound of curiosity from him ... a sound that had a question to ask that he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. “What’s on your mind?”

“That’s a long time,” he said with a gulp. “A long time to be alone ....”

She leaned up on her elbow. “Spill it,” she demanded. “If you don’t ask, it’ll drive you nuts.”

“The answer might well do that, too.”

“Just ask,” she sighed.

“Was there ...” he swallowed awkwardly. “Was there anyone who ... I mean, did you....”. He winced and huffed out. “I will understand, of course. Human you, not remembering me....”

“Did I have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

She drew in a breath. “Well, she began. There was this one fellow.... an archaeological Professor.” She traced her fingers down along his jaw. “A John Smith....”

His eyes widened as he recalled a rather sensual encounter in a tent on one of Bernice’s sites way back along his timeline at least 600 years ago. The centuries had dulled the memory of the face that had captivated him so thoroughly that he’d so quickly and willingly allowed himself to fall into bed with her.

The face he had been so drawn to at that moment had long ago been replaced by the faces of the woman he truly loved.

“That was one hell of a night,” Rose said with a smile.

He joined her in the smile, a nod of his head and a widening in his eyes suggesting that he agreed with her assessment on that night 100%. “That it was, Rose.”

“And I suppose ...”

He rolled his head on the pillow to look at her. “Yes?”

“If I’m ever going to cheat on my husband ...”. She snickered. “It’s best I do it with him, yeah?”


	5. Penguin Love:  Narvin in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The female incarnation of Narvin finds herself hopelessly drawn to Braxiatel's assistant. Despite her younger incarnation's protests, she moves forward with her plans to court this remarkable woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by special request.... :)
> 
> Written over five fireside evenings on my iPhone....
> 
> Written in sappy Hallmark-style, because Narvin is anything but a Hallmark movie....

~~oooOOOOooo~

Missing Scene: Narvin falls in love and wants to take a mate 300 years out of her timeline to return with her to Gallifrey.

Why?: We all want to see Narv get a little bit of love and snuggles, yeah?

Timeline: On Estrail shortly after Romana and Rose return from the Gallery -- and only days before Brax and the Doctor find themselves caught dangerously inside Rassilon's grasp...

~~oooOOOooo~~

The older incarnation of Narvin stood quietly at the edge of the encampment. It was a quiet day for the most part. She’d just meandered around with sharp eyes and curiosity toward the members of her species caught up in the immediate aftermath of war; a war that ended more than 300 years ago in her timeline. By _her_ time, the refugees and survivors had settled between Estrail and Gallifrey in an expanded and very friendly network of trade and respect. Twin planets that shared resources and knowledge, that had become a holiday home for many who had been uprooted and then returned back home.

In _their_ timeline, however, they still had a long way to go before such unity and trust would be created between them. Outsiders never did appreciate the society that milled inside the dome of the Capitol. Likewise, the Time Lords failed to appreciate their Gallifreyan cousins that resided outside of it.

President Romana had worked tirelessly to bridge the gap between her peoples, and this wasn’t made easy with two planets hosting her people. With a strong council they had achieved peace and understanding ... but it wasn’t without unrest and unpleasantness.

Narvin knew that these people were only at the very beginning of their new lives, and despite the hardships to come, they would eventually come together as one with trust and respect for all.

Her eyes fell upon the tireless figure of Carein. A remarkable woman. Tiny, delicate, kind, eager to be of assistance where necessary — but with a strength and power inside that no one dared to invoke. When challenged, she most certainly rose to it. She was fearless. Even with an opponent almost twice her size, she would stand up and stand ground against them.

She was, in a word: remarkable.

Remarkable AND beautiful.

She was a woman that any Time Lord should be honoured to have walk at their side. Outsider or not, she would most certainly turn all of the heads within the Capitol and be observed with a sense of awe when she graced the halls with her presence.

Narvin focused on her hurried and purposeful movements as Carein corralled a group of rowdy Southern Mountaineers all arguing over a pile of junk they had procured from a site best left unmentioned. She recognized many of the parts, of course. Capsule parts, mostly, although not so much cannibalized from a living machine. They seemed procured from the repair warehouses within a machine. Spare parts mostly.

It was very clear what their intent was; both to her, and to Carein. Given the explosion that occurred only a couple of days ago, she understood Carein’s reluctance to let them have free reign with it.

It was one tiny woman against a whole band of large men, yet they took her chiding and her denials with friendly understanding and respect. One could have been forgiven for believing that it was the threat of Braxiatel that held them back, but Narvin wouldn’t even begin to assume so. Carein could hold her own well enough, and if Brax was needed, she had his backing.

A smile graced her lips as she watched Carein point an angry finger at the end of an outstretched arm in an order for them to leave. The smile stretched further when they obeyed and all walked away with heads lowered in defeat. When Carein dropped her head to look at the mess of equipment and clearly exhaled a sigh, she shifted to move toward her to offer her assistance.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the younger Narvin said with a low growl at her rear. “And I don’t like it.”

She turned her head to look at her shoulder to address him. “You don’t have to like it,” she replied.

“You are the future of me,” he countered darkly. “I would think that my opinion on the matter would ... well ... that it would matter.”

The female Narvin chuckled. “You’ve been gone a while now,” she advised him. “This you. Your opinion hasn’t mattered at all in nearly a century.”

“With the Lady Carein being of my timeline and not yours, I would argue.” He took up position at the side of his elder self. He held his arms behind his back and lifted his chin to look across the distance toward the young woman. “There is a sizeable timeline variance between you both, and so, if you have chosen her as our mate, then the responsibility of forging that connection will lie upon me, won’t it?”

She let out a long breath but said nothing.

“And I have to tell you ... inform you ... that I have no such desires.” He cleared his throat. “Least of all right now, when we have a long fight ahead of us. I am exhausted enough living two lives to keep these people - and our renegade former members of council - safe from Rassilon. I don’t need to add courtship as deemed necessary by an elder incarnation to my list of duties.” His face tensed up and creased. “And really. This is not only highly unorthodox, but is also a smear on the laws of Rassilon, who...”

“Who is a complete Jackarse...”

“He may be that, but he is also our President.”

“For now.”

Narvin didn’t look toward her, but the scowl on his face certainly didn’t go unnoticed. His elder merely sighed. “Don’t bother arguing, Narvin,” she said with a light grunt. “I know you better than you know yourself. I already have a counter for each and every one of the ridiculous arguments you can come up with.”

“Can you just?”

“I can,” she replied. “And don’t you worry about feeling the burden of any courtships. I will handle that, myself.”

“And simply expect her to hold herself for you for three centuries?” He laughed. “You’ve been friends with Braxiatel for far too long I’d you think you are that memorable to her that she’d be willing to wait _that_ long.”

She dropped her chin low, looking across to Carein through her lashes and eyebrows. “I don’t expect her to.”

“Then it does fall upon me, doesn’t it?”

“No.” She answered firmly. “Because I will ask her to return home with me.

Narvin turned sharply to his older self. “And risk damage to the timelines? Are you insane? Have you lost our mind completely?” He poked a finger into her chest. “I can list off at least twenty violations to the laws of Time just by making the suggestion of pulling her from her timeline. If you actually go ahead with it, then you can add a further laundry list of broken laws that I will be _forced_ to arrest you for. I will not allow you to do this.”

“Don’t you think that decision should be Carein’s to make?”

“Absolutely not. The decision is out of all of our hands. It cannot be allowed for any Time Lord to head back into his or her own timeline to pick and chose ....”. He exhaled in exasperation then dropped his head to rub at his eyes with his finger and thumb. His voice fell low, flat, and quiet. “You cannot pluck a life from an existing timeline just because you’ve taken a fancy to her. I am quite sure that Carein has a rather eventful and important life ahead of her. That cannot be taken away. Far too many people and timelines can and will be effected by it.”

The female Narvin let out a slow breath. “And if I tell you that Carein has no timeline to speak of on Estrail or Gallifrey once I leave and return to my own timeline, what would you say then?”

Narvin’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I would say that you’ve accessed the Matrix in an unofficial manner for purposes of your own and plan a rather impressively worded speech for your arrest.”

She snorted. “Then arrest yourself as well. It is hardly the first time you’ve accessed the Matrix to satisfy your own curiosities.” She sniffed. “And it’s definitely not the last.”

Narvin turned away to look ahead of them both. His voice fell to quiet. “We really _have_ spent too much time around Braxiatel.”

“No,” she replied. “Too much time in the CIA.”

“I would never say any such thing.”

She straightened her back and held her hands in a cradle underneath her tabard. “This is my intention, Narvin. I would hope for your approval, but it really isn’t necessary.”

“And so, instead, you tell me that it is I who has to wait 300 years before I have the ability to take a mate? That I am the one held by timelines that are out of synch.”

She snorted a quick and light laugh. “You are already so stretched thin, exhausted, and disinterested, Narvin.” She drew in a breath. “I thought it would be a blessing to you to know that no effort is required on your part.”

“I suppose so.”

“Then so excuse me,” she said with a breath and a smile. “I am unfamiliar with courtships as required by the people of the Southern Mountains, so it’s best I get started.”

“You mean to say that you didn’t look it up during your illegal search of the Matrix.”

“Oh, I searched,” she answered with a laugh. “But there was nothing available. The Matrix is all knowing about the Lords of Time, not those who exist outside the Capitol.”

“I still must express my protests about this.”

“And I must still ignore it.” She strode forward. “Good day, Narvin.”

~~oooOOOooo~~

Narvin spent a good part of the morning just wandering around the campsite and taking in the behaviours and interactions between the refugees. While not all of them were Southerners, the vast majority of the vocal members were. From boisterous, playful time tots (or just tots as it was in their case), teens helping their elders with tasks, adults working tirelessly on their own projects, it was clear that they had a mindset of community amongst them. Everyone seemed to take care of each other. There was no class caste, no real familial definition between groups. They were ... well ... tribal, to some degree, she supposed. Everyone had their tasks, of course, but everyone also assisted the other. Not once did she witness anyone indignantly responding: _that’s not my job_. No. They did as asked without question.

It was remarkable to watch.

Carein definitely stood as a respected member of the group. People stood up with respect when she arrived and did exactly as she asked of them when she spoke. There was a sense that her family held some standing within the community, given how much respect she commanded. But as Narvin had witnessed with her own eyes, there stood no power family within this community. It was just her tireless presence and hard work that had endeared her to them all....

...it had endeared the young woman to herself, as well.

Shortly before the lunch hour, as Narvin lurked underneath the shade of a large tree, a Southern Elder arrived at her side. She was a delicate looking woman who stood just over half her height. Her hair was grey and long and wrapped around in a bun so large, it wore like a halo around her head. Narvin couldn’t help but notice the ombre shade from white in the centre to a deep brown at its very edge. It was clear that this magnificent halo of hers was one grown over at least a half century.

“Help me out, dear,” she requested with a light swat of her hand to hold at Narvin’s arm.

“I don’t move as easily as I once did. It’s these old bones, you see. I’m not one hundred anymore.”

Narvin was quick to offer help. She dipped low to help the woman into a waiting seat beside her. Carved out of a fallen trunk by no doubt one of the other Southerners, it seemed to fit her tiny form perfectly. She settled with a sigh and a wriggle of her bottom. “That is much better. In the shade, with a prime view over the camp.”

“It is,” Narvin agreed softly with a lift of her eyes to the row of capsules and the endless streams of individuals moving in and out their doors. “Very prime position to watch.”

“Which is what _you_ do,” she stated firmly. “You watch.” She looked up at Narvin, her eyes void of judgmental, but filled with wisdom. “You are a specialist in making mental notes and analyzing what surrounds you.”

Narvin nodded slowly. “Indeed I am.”

“And you never stop analyzing, do you? Always on watch, always on guard, never resting.”

“A habit, I suppose,” she answered with her eyes still watching the movements around her. “I’ve been doing it for centuries now. For longer than I can possibly remember.”

“A watcher who does not see,” she offered sagely. “Always looking across the surface. Seeing only what one wishes to project....”

“Not always,” she said. “Sometimes I am forced to look much deeper than I’d like to. Into the very souls of Time Lords and general galactic bad guys.”

“But to see inside the hearts of those that surround you, dear? Do you do that?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “No. It’s really best that I don’t.”

“Fear what you might see?”

“Fear of confirmation of what I already know,” she admitted softly.

The old woman hummed. “And yet... while fearing the hearts of those who already care for you, you are most eager to see inside the heart of one you hope might.”

“Might what?” She questioned with a pinch in her brow.

“Who might grow to care.” She looked toward Carein.

Narvin followed the old woman’s line of sight and focused her gaze on Carein. She said nothing as she watched the young woman move about the other refugees.

“You hope that she could be one who can see beyond the man, and now woman, that others think they know and understand.”

“They neither know nor understand me,” she admitted. “I can’t afford to let anyone see that. My weaknesses, my failings.”

“We all have them.”

“I can’t afford to.”

She nodded slowly. “Time Lords,” she huffed. “So very afraid of being Gallifreyan, aren’t you?” She looked upward at Narvin again. “And yet at your very core, that’s who you are: Gallifreyan.”

“We are.”

“And there are so very few of us left,” she said sadly. “So very few.”

“We will rebuild,” Narvin said gently. “We will rebuild and become a better Gallifrey. A planet of peace and harmony for all - Gallifreyans and Time Lords alike.”

“If our Lady Romana is successful, of course,” she said with a nod. “While that idiot Rassilon is in power, Gallifrey is doomed to failure.”

Narvin smiled. “You’re looking for information on Gallifrey’s future.” She looked down at her. “You know I am here out of my Time.”

“One can try.” She looked toward the people. “My Time is limited now, and I want to know before I leave this realm that our people will rise again.”

“Try and keep a Gallifreyan down,” she answered with a laugh. “Especially one from the Southern Mountains.”

The old woman laughed proudly. “A proud people for sure,” she agreed. “We will fight until our last breaths are drawn, and even afterward, we will continue to fight.”

Narvin chuckled at that. She could definitely see how that could be true, these people were remarkable. Only a few days on Estrail, and one would think they’d been here all their lives.

“Might I ask something,” Narvin ventured warily, unsure of whether or not to ask.

“I am an elder,” she replied. “It is your duty to ask me. Otherwise, what good am I to anyone?”

Narvin chose not to remark on that. Instead she went straight to it. “Your people, I mean those of the Southern Mountains. Do you accept the courtships from other regions?”

She gave her an incredulous look. “You say that like we are an entirely different species to your people.”

She exhaled. “To some degree you are. We Time Lords ...”

“Are just fancy Gallifreyans,” she said with a shake in her head. “More pompous and proper than any of my kin, but Gallifreyan just the same.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Oh you have cheek!” She gushed. “There is Gallifreyan in you after all, young Narvin, just waiting to be released.”

Narvin smiled.

“To answer your question, dear: yes. Love takes many forms, it does. It comes from many places.” She lifted a wrinkled hand to take Narvin’s in hers. “And when it comes, who are any of us to stand in its way?”

Narvin exhaled with relief. 

The elder continued to speak. “The Lady Rose and her Time Lord. From different planets, different societies, different species altogether. And yet their love is embraced by all of us. We cherish it.” She covered Narvin’s hand with her other hand. “As we will with yours and Carein’s love when it blooms.”

Narvin’s voice shuddered. “And the rules of courtship for your people? Are there rules?”

“Simply treat her with all of the kindness she will give you,” she replied softly. “We are not Time Lords who live in the Capitol with all of their fancy ceremonies and rules. We’ve no need for dowries, deals, and promises of wealth and high standing. Rubbish, all of it. Makes for a cold bed, that does.”

Narvin cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Yes, well....”

“Approach her, Time Lord. Express to her your intent and let her be the one to make the decision toward your worthiness.” She petted her hand. “You are not the one to determine that, and neither are we. It will be her heart that decides, and yours that makes the promise.”

~~oooOOOooo~~

Evening fell with remarkable speed over Estrail. While each member of the encampment might have felt every single second, minute, and hour of the day (particularly the Time Lords), once Narvin had decided to take the advice of the old Southern Woman, the day had sped by her.

So, too, were her hearts. Beating swiftly inside her chest. She could feel the hammer of them against her chest, and more than once she’d balked at the idea of what she was about to do and almost called it off completely.

It really wouldn’t disappoint anyone except herself if she did, of course. She hasn’t exactly announced her plans to beg courtship from Carein.

As the sun set, Narvin decided to pull on her big girl panties and take the plunge. She had very little time left to spend on Estrail before she was required back inside her own timeline, best she not waste any time worrying about what if’s.

If rejected, then she could simply expedite her return to Gallifrey to lick her wounds and never seek out a mate ever again...

...the only ones who would ever know would be her and Carein, after all ... ahhh, and the Matrix.

She heard the howling of the Dahramas heralding the rise of the moon and stepped off her lean on the walls of the Doctor’s TARDIS. Her quiet observations of an Estrail evening was that Carein typically took a walk to the small clearing to the wide of the encampment, where she would spend long moments simply staring at the sky above. It was Narvin’s intention to be there before she arrived, so that she could look upward at the constellations above and already have some very intelligent stories to tell her about at least a couple of them.

With her hands underneath the front of her tabard, she strode toward the clearing. She stopped short to see that Carein was already there...

...and her breath caught inside her chest.

There was a small rise at the centre of the clearing, a tiny hill that elevated little more than a foot from the ground below. Carein stood at its apex, her arms held loosely around her as she gazed upward into the sky. There was the lightest of breezes across the clearing. Her hair had been released from the right braid that she typically wore during the day, and the crimped length of her hair swayed in the breeze. Her form was lit only by the blue light of the twin moons up above, and against her cream coloured skirts she seemed to glow under their light.

Narvin found it difficult to move from where she stood. The magnificence of the woman in front of her almost too ethereal for a mortal woman to approach. She needed to be worshiped, revered, and admired by all.

“I know you’re there, Coordinator,” Carein said quietly to interrupt Narvin’s quiet reverence. She turned slowly to face her. “Is there something that you need?”

An immediate answer to that question popped into her mind, but Narvin held onto it for now. She slowly stepped forward to join her on the small hill.

“No,” she answered with a light smile. “I don’t need anything right now, and besides... you’re off duty now.”

Carein laughed lightly at that. “When you are an assistant to his Lord Cardinal, you are never really off duty.” She looked to the side to welcome Narvin with a soft gaze. “He is a busy man, with many needs. Not all of them can be met inside daylight hours.”

It was easy to read into that comment in the most inappropriate of ways, but knowing Braxiatel as she did. Narvin wouldn’t dare allow a thought like that to enter her mind.

“Do you enjoy working for him?” She asked curiously. “For Braxiatel, I mean?”

“He is brilliant,” Carein answered. “He saved my life, and I owe him greatly.”

“That doesn’t quite answer the question,” Narvin said with a smile. “I’ve known Brax for nearly 900 years now, knew of his reputation before that time. He’s difficult, he’s demanding, rude....”

“He is wonderful,” Carein answered. “It is my pleasure to assist he and our Ladies Rose and Romana.” She smiled. “It is exhausting but is very rewarding.”

Narvin nodded slowly. “And so you would never consider leaving?”

She chuckled. “I never said that.” She looked back at the sky. “Should the right offer come along from the right person, I could be persuaded to accompany them on another adventure.”

Narvin’s breathe drew in with surprise at that. She swallowed a lump and practically squeaked when she spoke next. “Ehm, I’m sorry?”

Carein didn’t look at her, but she smiled widely. “I am not an emotionless person without dreams and hope to find love and romance, Coordinator...”

“Narvin,” she corrected gently. “Please call me Narvin.”

Carein looked at her with a smile. “Narvin,” she repeated softly ...

...and it made her hearts hammer inside her chest to hear it.

“Your younger incarnation doesn’t like me too much,” she said softly. “You were very distant and ... if I may be blunt... quite arrogant.”

“I still am to a certain degree,” she admitted. “But that is a necessity because of who I am to the Time Lord Society.” She exhaled. “Emotions are dangerous. To care is to make mistakes ... I couldn’t risk that back then.”

“And now?”

Narvin dared reach out for her hand. She took it lightly in hers. “Now, I can see the strength in it, as well as the weaknesses. “. She drew in a breath. “And I think I’m willing to take that leap.”

Carein looked down at their joined hands. “And you believe I’m worth making that leap, Narvin?”

“I believe it would be a travesty not to.”

“You barely know me.”

She stepped closer to her, feeling her courage rise that Carein has not pulled her hand free.

“But I’d really like to get to know you,” she said with a smile. “That is, if you’re willing to let me.”

Carein offered Narvin a polite smile. It was by no means a beaming ray of absolute pleasure to be propositioned in such a manner, but it wasn’t a polite refusal, either. It was warm acceptance from the young woman, and Narvin had to wonder if she felt she was not good enough for the attention of a Time Lord.

Meanwhile Narvin harboured the same doubts about her worth for her.

“I’m almost a thousand years old,” Narvin said softly with a shift of her head to look at the mountain range near the horizon. “Older than Romana by a century.” She jutted her chin toward a small star. “Older than that sun over there...”

Carein leaned close to her, her intent to try and follow Narvin’s gaze to pick out the correct star in a sky filled with billions of them. She ended up with her cheek touching Narvin’s. “Which one?”

Narvin gulped just slightly at the soft floral scent of Carein and lifted a shuddering arm to point toward a small twinkling dot in the distance. “That one,” she answered softly. “Just a baby, only one planet in its orbit right now.”

“But more will come, won’t they?”

“We believe so.”

Carein sighed softly but didn’t pull away. She kept her eyes on that star. “Does it have a name, yet?”

Narvin smiled and let her arm drop. She didn’t move away or shift, too unwilling right now to escape the soft skin that was against hers. “Not to my people. Not yet.”

“Then maybe we should name it,” Carein offered.

  
“It won’t be official.”

Carein chuckled lightly. “You’re the Coordinator of the CIA . I’m sure you can sneak it into the registry somehow.”

Narvin smiled widely. “That would be an abuse of my power.”

“But worth it, don’t you think? To have a star that you named yourself?”

“You might prove to be a very bad influence on me, you know that?”

“Or a positive one,” she ventured with a smile as she pulled away from her. “As it did make you smile.”

Narvin touched at her lips, surprised to feel them turned in an upward angle at the edges. “Why, yes. It seems that it did.”

“And it should be said: you have a beautiful smile.”

Narvin exhaled. “Please don’t tell me to do it more often.”

Carein lifted her chin and laughed. “Oh, my. Never, Narvin. It makes me see mauve when I hear one of the Southerners suggest that I should smile more.” She lowered her chin, keeping her eyes level on the horizon. “I make more of an effort to scowl.”

“Yes. I’ve experienced the same, myself, since regenerating into this body.” She shrugged. “Heard a lot of new things that make me see ... as you say ... mauve.”

Carein tightened her hand around Narvin’s and shifted her head to look at her. “So you’re almost one thousand?”

“Give or take a decade or two,” she answered with a nod. “Old, but not necessarily wise.”

“Not as wise as our elders,” she agreed with a nod of her head. “Who are half your age...”

“Not sure if that’s supposed to be an insult.”

Carein chuckled. “No. Just fact.”

“Very straight forward and blunt, aren’t you?”

Her eyes flared as she considered her answer. “I have to be. You’ve seen who I have to contend with each day. No point in trying to be sweet and sugarcoat things.” She sighed and looked upward. “I _was_ like that - before the war, before London - but I quickly learned I’d get eaten alive if I stayed that way.”

“Who was it? Rose or Brax who yelled at whomever and then gave you a talking to about it?”

Carein laughed. “Brax yelled, made threats. Rose gave me a pep talk and taught me about _sass_ and how to use it.” Her smile stayed firm. “I never looked back.”

Silence fell between the pair for a short moment. Both of them looking toward the stars, both of them with thoughts that were millions of miles away.

Carein finally spoke up, her voice quiet and slightly unsure. “In a thousand years, I am sure that you’ve had many suitors. Loves. Heartbreak?”

She snorted out quietly. “Would you trust me if I told you no, that I may have occasionally admired from a distance, but never actually held a lover in my arms?”

“Would it insult you if I said that I did?”

Narvin shook her head. “Not at all. I was once that young fool back at the camp openly grumbling about not having the time nor inclination for such nonsense.” She smiled. “I’m quite sure you’ve heard him.”

Carein laughed. “Oh, yes I have.”

“I didn’t change my views on it at all....”. She looked to Carein. “Until I saw you.”

Carein’s laughter stopped abruptly and she looked at Narvin with clear surprise on her face.

  
“I don’t quite know why that would shock you,” Narvin said softly. She looked away with a light slump in her shoulders. “I thought I had been quite clear from the start.”

“I didn’t want to assume,” she said softly, drawing Narvin’s face back to hers with a touch of her fingers under her jaw. “I admit to having hope. But with 300 years separating us, I didn’t think ....”. She exhaled. “Your people have rules, and from what I’ve seen of you, you are very loyal to those laws.”

Narvin took the hand she held to her jaw and pressed it flat on her cheek. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh as she leaned into Carein’s touch. “If Braxiatel and his brother have shown me anything, Carein. It’s that sometimes there are people worthy of breaking those rules for.”

“And you think I might be worth it?”

Narvin gave her a fierce look. Her voice held passion and awe. “You helped save our people, Carein. You work tirelessly to make sure that every man, woman, and child is protected, sheltered, and fed. You do it all without want for money, or for status, but because these are your people and they need you.” She swallowed. “If you ask me, there’s no one else in the universe more worthy of it.”

“May I kiss you?” She asked on a hurried breath, her heart caught by Narvin’s words and impassioned delivery.

  
Narvin smiled and took her hand from her cheek to lightly cup it behind Carein’s head. “You never need ask,” she answered. “As I will never deny you.”

Both women pushed toward each other, their lips meeting in a tentative and somewhat nervous touch. Under the light of twin moons and with the howl of two ghostly white wolves, Narvin and Carein came together with the gentlest of touches. A simple press of lips, arms coming quite protectively around each other, they remained in that moment for a long while.

It was when Carein shifted her mouth into a light part to gulp in a breath, that Narvin got her first taste of her. Her eyes opened wide as the essence of Carein exploded upon her lips, and it took every ounce of control she had within her not to dive any deeper. This was the first of what she hoped would be many more tender touches, and she didn’t quite want to ruin it by letting her baser instincts rush forward. She made do with pulling back lightly to simply look into her potential mate’s eyes. She kept her arms around her waist.

“That was.... _lovely_ ,” she managed out with a wince at how ridiculous she must have sounded.

Carein lightly stroked the small hairs at the back of Narvin’s head. There was the slightest of blushes on her face, an almost shy expression. “I thought so, too.”

“Then if I may ask for another,” Narvin whispered with a slight movement of her head toward her. “Would that be alright?”

“I’d very much like it if you did,” she answered with a light tilt in her head to accept another kiss.

Their lips met once more, with a firmer touch, lips lightly parted against the other.

Narvin quietly decided to taste her once more, but a bellow from the capsules had her pull back and away almost violently.

“Carein!” Braxiatel called out sharply. “Are you out there? I need some assistance on a task if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I do,” Narvin grumbled out with light annoyance.

Carein petted Narvin’s shoulders with apology. “I’m sorry. Duty calls. I should respond.” She looked upward. “I‘ll be right there, Brax. One moment.”

Narvin quickly took hold of her hand as she walked past her. “Can I see you ... and I mean just the two of us ... again?”

Carein kissed her lightly on the mouth, sighing before she pulled away. “I would love that.”

Narvin watched as she walked away, standing in an almost despondent slouch as she watched Carein be greeted by Braxiatel and walk away.

“And perhaps one day, you might love me as well.”

~~oooOOOooo~~

The following three evenings of tender rendezvous with Carein progressed with no further interruptions from Braxiatel. That was partly due to the fact that she’d had a quiet word with Rose about her intentions for the evening and to please keep Brax otherwise occupied. She had complied after a disgustingly annoying squeal of excitement, and a promise to keep the old boy occupied ... evening one involved a tea party with Alirra, of which he was required to wear a pretty gown, makeup and a tiara. Night two was working with the Doctor and Mark on a small project ... night three? She wasn’t sure, but Rose did mention that Romana had it well in hand .... 

....then walked off with a laugh.

Tonight, she wasn’t sure what would be the distraction. She hadn’t had a chance to talk with Rose about it.

She hadn’t seen Carein, either, come to think of it. Usually the target of her affections was highly visible around the camp. For some reason, she had been .... out of sight.

Narvin tried not to let that concern her too greatly. Carein was a very busy woman.

Busy, and _amazing_.

Narvin always wore a smile when she thought of her. That smile broadened when she thought about their quiet moments together in the clearing. Tender touches, conversations, and kisses stolen by moonlight. It was horribly cliche, but in this instance, Narvin wasn’t going to complain. It seemed that cliche was quite lovely.

She stood alone underneath the twin moons, both of them full and blue in the sky above. Their brightness was such that they obscured the twinkling stars that surrounded them, but it made the sky no less beautiful. It would be the perfect backdrop for her to finally broach the subject of Carein returning to Gallifrey with her.

The lady President of her time had approved the request. They could see no branch of the timeline that would be affected by it.

She smiled to consider bringing Carein to her home on the outskirts of the Capitol.

Her home was quaint by Gallifreyan standards. Seeded by a tree much smaller and less opulent than the mighty Cadonwood trees of Southern Gallifrey. It bore walls of deep mahogany instead of white and was nestled amongst the rocks and boulders that bordered a lightly bubbling brook. A bachelor pad, mostly, but with the potential for growth into something more majestic.

Together, they’d create something wonderful, she just knew it.

Narvin’s brows creased as time dragged slowly along. While not in possession of a watch, she did have a rather decently functioning sense of Time. Carein should have been at her side more than a half hour ago....

....and if she knew anything about Carein, it was that she was always on time ... never late. Although not a Time Lord herself (gods willing one day), she seemed to possess a perfect sense of Time. She was often precise to the second ...

Narvin frowned just lightly and slipped her hands underneath the black fabric of her tabard. Her lips pursed outward as she turned and slowly walked back toward the camp. Perhaps she would intercept Carein along the way and the two of them could take a walk together.

A light ruckus deep inside the camp had Narvin stride a little quicker. Her hand hovered at her holster, ready to draw for fire if necessary. She intercepted her younger self, who looked as though he may have indulged in a few beverages with some fellow Time Lords.

“What’s going on?” He asked with a light slur as he fought to expel the alcohol from his system.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “But it doesn’t sound good.”

The doors of Braxiatel’s capsule slammed open with a creak and a crash. He ran out of the capsule, still fastening up his trousers. His shirt was open to the neck, and his tie was askew. The location of his wife remained undetermined ... although it was easily speculated as to where Romana might be.

“What’s happening?” Braxiatel growled out.

“We don’t know,” the elder Narvin answered. “Just got here ourself.”

Braxiatel looked toward the melee and his eyes narrowed. “Those damn Southerners. I swear if Gragol is starting his shit....”

He didn’t need to expand on that.

As a trio, they rounded the bend toward the main row of residential capsules. While both Narvins skidded to a stop to properly assess the situation before rushing in, Braxiatel marched forward. His voice was a low thunder when he saw a group of four large men all glaring down at a much smaller woman, who was clearly doing her very best to stand up to them all.

“What in the name of our founding fathers is going on here?”

Carein didn’t take her eyes off the men, but she did angle her head to talk to Braxiatel over her shoulder. “I have it in hand, Brax. Just a few Northeners trying to start some trouble.”

“Are they just?” He growled as he strode forward. “And just what kind of trouble?”

The leader of the group lifted his eyes to Braxiatel, who towered behind Carein with a dark expression. He then looked toward the male Narvin, and his shorter stature. He didn’t bother to look toward the female incarnation of the CIA coordinator, he felt targeting the shorter man more than enough.

He didn’t get a chance to speak before Braxiatel was demanding and asking once more. “I asked: what is going on here? Why are you disrupting the entire camp?”

“Territory,” Carein said with a growl. “They’re demanding more ground, and more resources than the Southerners.”

Braxiatel’s eyes narrowed. “This had better not be about distilling moonshine, or so help me I’ll ban the lot of you from it.”

Carein gave a light snarl. “If you don’t mind, Braxiatel, I have this in hand. Please return to your capsule and let me continue to deal with them.”

The large fellow set his hands on his hips and threw his head back in a laugh. “That’s a fine claim to make. You have _nothing in hand_ , little girl.” He lowered his head and gave her a smirk. He held his hand downward to let her condescendingly on top of her head. “You are so tiny. Insignificant. How can you possibly think you have a man like me in hand?”

Quickly, the two Narvin’s, and Braxiatel took a step forward, each of them with a darkened look of fury and warning on their faces.

Carein lifted her eyes, peering through bangs that were pushed down on her head by the man’s hand. “Take your hand off me,” she snarled. She snapped out a hand to stop the approach of three people readying to come to her aid. Her eyes remained on the man. “I am not yours to be petted.”

Behind him, his three friends had lifted hands in surrender and had backed off. He didn’t notice, and so thinking he had the backup of his friends, sneered down into her face. “Aren’t you though?”

With all of the smoothness and the strength of a woman raised through childhood in the rugged and oftentimes dangerous Southern Mountains of Gallifrey, Carein spun underneath his hand. Her clipboard was tossed to one side as her hands came up to clutch at his wrist. Her eyes locked onto those of her suitor, and she dared give her a wink as she let out a long grunt and hauled the much bigger man over her shoulder and onto the ground at Braxiatel’s feet. She dropped to her knee at his side, slammed her elbow into his stomach, then followed through with a hard strike of the butt of her palm against his face. With his groan and wail of pain as he was forced to contract his stomach through the pain, Carein dropped her butt onto his chest in a seat. She inhaled and looked down at him with a displeased stare. “Now,” she said calmly as she leaned forward to pick up her clipboard. “As I was saying. Until we have done an adequate surveyance of the surrounding areas in order to accurately determine the available resources to us, my answer is no. You will not be given higher priority than any other of our residents.” She wriggled to sit with more comfort and to press down harder onto his chest. “Are you in agreement with that, Fandrell.”

“He damn well better be,” Braxiatel snarled. He hardly seemed surprised by Carein’s defence but stood a little taller to loom down appropriately over the man. “And after the decision has been relayed to the leaders of your group, you will spend the next twenty spans locked inside the deepest parts of your capsule where you will wait for our Lady President to determine appropriate punishment for your actions tonight. Am I understood?”

“Perfectly,” he muttered with a cough. “Now get her off me!”

Narvin’s eyes were wide. The scene had played out to him in remarkable slow motion. Judging by the light whimper in his elder self beside him, he assumed it had done so for her as well.

“Ehm,” he managed over a gulp. “Just so you know.” He gestured toward the young woman. “I think I approve. Carein ... she is...” He exhaled through pursed lips. “She is something quite remarkable.”

“And so we are clear,” the elder Narvin replied indignantly. “I didn’t need your approval.”

She stepped forward, her hearts hammering inside her chest as Carein was helped to a stand by Braxiatel. As Carein steadied her stand and looked to Narvin, the enamoured CIA Coordinator dropped to her knees in front of her.

Carein looked down to her with surprise. “Narvin? Are you not well?”

“Marry me,” she blurted out quickly. She lifted her hand to take Carein’s. “Return to Gallifrey with me and do me the honour of becoming my wife...”

Carein’s surprise shifted toward reverence. She looked to Braxiatel with apology in her eyes and, when he nodded his head and took a step backward, looked back down to Narvin. Her face broke into a smile.

“Yes,” she answered softly, tugging hard on her hand to draw Narvin to her feet. “Although the honour is very much mine.”

Narvin shot to her feet and snatched her arms around her bride to be, pulling her up tight against her chest. “My hearts,” she vowed. “Are yours.”

“Oh come here,” Carein said with a light laugh. “I already know.” She snatched Narvin in closer to her and sealed her mouth against hers.

~~END~~


	6. Doggie Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and Eight go out on a date, leaving their two wolves at home alone. Knowing that her own mate is feeling a little frisky, Tiallu takes Soiarn out on a "Doggie Date" ....and in the course of their evening manage to bump into an unsuspecting Narvin ... and so begins the hunt.
> 
> A Wolf Love story of sorts....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by special request over the course of a couple of evenings by the fire before I quit smoking.... Writing a wolf date was something I never thought I'd ever write ... but here we are... 
> 
> I hope you enjoy... A new chapter of Reclaiming Gallifrey is in the works ... But I got distracted by the Election....

~~oooOOOooo~~

Timeline: About two years after the wolves, Rose, and the Doctor become companions. Before the arrival of time tots...

Why: Because why not? It was an interesting request which was a hoot to write.

~~oooOOOoooo~~

The great white female Dahrama of the small Orchard home lifted her head with petulant indignance as she watched her Time Lord and Human companions leave the house. Dressed in silk and satin finery, smelling of perfume and cologne, the pair of them had decided to leave their wolves behind and go on ... well ... a date.

It was a rare evening when the Doctor and Rose left the house without their wolves; and Tiallu was feeling out of sorts about it. Having the run of the house, being able to jump into the forbidden pieces of furniture was a fine thing ... but the thrill of that was fleeting. No sense in feeling that kind of victory if she didn’t have her Time Lord glaring at her, stomping a foot, and pointing sharply as he growled at her to leave.

Where was the fun without that?

She made do with letting out a defeated huff and lay at the door, her iridescent blue eyes glaring at the handle in wait for it to jiggle to announce they were home.

She laid her head on the floor and huffed again.

Behind her she heard the tikka tikka sound of her mate’s claws tapping on the wood floor as he approached. Tiallu waited a moment to see if he would join her little vigil of wait for their companions. Chances were he wouldn’t. He didn’t have the patience for such lazy endeavours.

She felt him nuzzle at her tail, then at her rump. Then he gave the gentlest of bites against her fur.

If she was capable of smiling, she likely would have. Seemed that her mate was feeling frisky.

She opted to ignore him for a slight moment, testing to see how far he would go to coax her into some playful mating....

He nuzzled at her shoulder and huffed a low purring growl against her fur. Another nuzzle, this time at her neck, and Tiallu slowly stretched as she drew herself to a stand.

A coy look backward to him, and his darkened eyes and she padded her feet lightly in place. 

If he wanted to have some fun .... then she was going to make him work for it.

With a slow blink of her eyes and a light huff through her lips, she quickly took off out the back door. There was a howl in her throat, a call for him to follow, and she heard his thundering, bounding footfalls behind her.

Across the grasses and into the orchard, she led her mate in a chase. She leapt high over small magnolia saplings, kicked her feet off the trunks of the more mature trees, and finally a single high leap across the small stream that nourished the orchard.

With every leap, blind, and strode, her mate was never more than a tail swish behind her. She could hear his breathing, feel the pound of his feet on the ground behind her.

Oh, but this was exhilarating. It had been far too long since she’d led him on a chase like this…

.... the last time they did she had ended up on a ledge over a cliff, and that would not happen this time!

A wide open paddock behind the orchard, and Soliarn caught up with her. His blue eyes were alight as he stared straight ahead on their path. Shoulder to shoulder, they ran almost as one ... blinding white fur that glowed blue under the moonlight.

He gave a great leap to jump over her shoulders, landing on her other side without so much as a falter in his stride. She lifted her head to howl to the moon, then performed the same high-kicked leap to cross over his shoulders. It wasn't until they reached the edge of the Cadonwood forest that their run slowed to a more gentle stroll.

Soliarn walked in a circle around her, knocking his shoulder against hers, and nuzzled at her nose. His breath was hot and smoky in the cool and damp evening, puffing out of this nose with small white clouds.

Together they walked their circular stride, a dance of the wolves, and tenderly bumped and nuzzled at each other with only the sounds of tinkling silver leaves above them as their song.

Another song filled the air at that moment which captured her attention; a haunting sound of wind blown through the pursed lips of a man.

Soliarn paused his ritual of dance and lifted his nose high. He drew in a deep breath to smell the air around them, then lowered his nose with a light growl in the back of his throat.

Tiallu sensed his warning and passed quietly to his side. She lifted her head to place it across his and huffed for quiet as she listened to the sounds within the forest to gauge the danger. At the slip of boots trudging through damp soil, and the crush of twigs, she offered her mate a light sound of amusement.

The thrill of a chase was nowhere near as exhilarating as the thrill of a hunt, and she invited her mate to join her on a stalk.

Soliarn didn’t argue. His own snort was one of amusement as well, and with a touch of his nose to hers, he turned to walk deep into the woods.

Tiallu looked up along the trunk of a mighty Cadonwood tree, and with a stretch of her claws, leapt upward to climb up into the branches.

She would hunt high, her mate would stay low ... just like they always did.

~~oooOOOooo~~

Where on Gallifrey his tax dollars were being spent, Narvin had no idea. A planet and a society that claimed to have the most advanced technology, with the most regaled and highly touted infrastructure .... and they couldn’t even provide a reliable public transportation system.

This would be an item he would be sure to bring up the next time he had the opportunity to speak with the Madam President. Granted, transit was well below her pay grade, but by Rassilon, she needed to make sure that everyone who worked in that damn Capitol dome had a reliable transit home. Having to trudge his way along unpaved pathways after three days of rain was completely unacceptable.

On strike? Really? Since when were the capsule dock workers unionised? He’s never heard of such a thing.

Where his time ring got to, he had no idea. Probably stolen by Braxiatel when he learned of the strike. He wouldn’t put it past him. No access to his capsule, and no Time ring ....

Making this all Braxiatel’s fault. It had to be. Only Brax would use such elaborate means just to pull a prank against him.

Still, it was a rather pleasant evening to have to take a walk. A little cooler than he preferred. But pleasant nonetheless. The sky wore a brilliant array of stars, the moon was full and bright, and best of all, it was quiet. No constant demands and questions from CIA operatives or council members. No chiding from a frustrated President. No Hums of a computer or fluorescent lights above his head. Just the light tinkle of Cadonwood leaves, and the whisper of the breeze.

Simply beautiful.

He puckered his lips and began to whistle a tune that had wormed its way into his mind for the afternoon. An interesting melody composed by one of Gallifrey’s leading singer songwriters. Quite pleasant, and it sounded quite lovely as a whistle.

If he was capable of smiling, then he may well have done so. For all his whining and complaints, it was good to get out and walk.

He closed his eyes for a short moment to feel the tune and the breeze....

it was when he got to the third bar of the song that he detected movement from within the forest. Not a large sound, mind, but enough to shift his lips to make whistling an impossibility. He paused his stride and listened a little harder.

Silence. Complete silence.

Perhaps it was just a shift of wind through the trees? Not entirely unexpected. The breeze may not have been strong, but it was lightly gusty... just enough to sway the tree tops and creak a few tree limbs.

Nothing at all to be concerned about.

Nothing at all.

He swallowed, wet his lips, then puckered them to begin whistling once more. This time to the tune of Gallifrey’s anthem, a song long since forgotten by the current youth of today.

Bunch of pathetic ingrates, the lot of them. Of course, that would come with the enrollment of hundreds of off-planet cadets into the academy. Still deeply opposed to it, but unable to argue.... well, he did argue. Fat lot of good it did him.

He reached the chorus of the tune when he heard movement in the woods again. This time it was a telltale crack of twigs under foot.

He stopped whistling and slowed his stride to a stop.

“Who goes there?” He boomed out with as much threat in his tone as he could. “Show yourself.”

He was met with silence.

“This is not a game,” he warned. “I am CIA. I don’t tolerate games.”

Still it was silent. In the far distance he heard a Wolf howl out into the night. Not too close, fortunately, but it did lend a rather eerie ambiance to his current circumstance.

He drew in a breath and closed his eyes. He sent out a telepathic wave, hoping to identify who it was that might be lurking in the woods. His scan must have spanned a good half kilometre, but yielded nothing ... no one of particular note.

Whatever was out there, it certainly wasn’t Time Lord or Gallifreyan.

Quite possibly just a small rodent.

He strode forward again. This time he walked with a more purposeful stride.

There was another howl of a Wolf in the distance, and Narvin assumed it was a song of those magnificent - and rather terrifying - creatures toward the full moon above.

He had no concerns about a wolf in this section of the mountains. This was not the territory of a Dahrama - the most terrifying of them all. They tended to stick to the mount Lung region of Gallifrey, where their favoured prey were plenty.

There were very few tasty morsels on this side of the mountain to keep them fat and well fed.

The worst he may come across would be a flubble, and they were hardly terrifying. Noisy around mating season of course, but relatively harmless .... unless it was mating season .... which it wasn’t.

Another howl in the distance, met by a return howl from an equally distant wolf. They were tendrils of sound that seemed to weave through the night and curl around him. Beautiful, yet haunting, and not a sound he really wanted to hear when he was still so far from home.

A new howl joined the song from across the mountain. A fresh voice ... and one that seemed to come from a location far closer than the other side of Mount Lung.

Narvin immediately froze in place.

Frozen in place and desperately lamenting the fact that his CIA-issued staser was back in his office at the Capitol, Narvin held his breath tightly.

There had been plenty of instructions and old wives tales told throughout his upbringing about how to deal with a Dahrama on a hunt. Just which of these protections would actually work, he had no idea.

  1. Stay perfectly still, and don’t let them see you.
  2. Hold your breath and let the bypass kick in to oxygenate your blood. If you exhaust that, then .... Well ... you’re dead anyway ....
  3. Don’t show fear, they can smell it and consider it a meat tenderizer.
  4. Pee yourself. The scent of urine is a repellent. (Although he suspected this one was more a Time Scouts hazing joke than an actual effective method)
  5. Run .... if you’re going to be a meal, make them work for it ....



There were others. Plenty of them.

Narvin wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He opted to combine a couple:

_Hold breath. Show no fear. Run._

Glad that he’d opted for trousers and only his thigh-length tunic and tabard, Narvin leaned slightly forward and broke into a run.

....well, not quite a run. More of a jog. The wet mud beneath his boots was far too sloppy and slippery to break into a sprint. He’d end up on his arse after his second stride and become a meal for tonight.

Rustling in the brush to his left told him that he was being stalked. Rustling in the trees to his right amended that to being hunted... this was not a game. There were at least two wolves ....

....they wouldn’t even find his bones when these two were through with him.

~~oooOOOooo~~

Tiallu’s breathes were panted huffs of thrill. On the ground below her, she could hear her mate in a slow run in the brush. Her handsome Soliarn so feared that he had a foolish Time Lord on the run.

She rumbled out a growl toward her mate to let him know she was still at his side and ready to flank if needed.

The sound that replied to her growl was a whimper and a Yelp from the Time Lord. She issued a much louder sound with intent for her mate to hear her.

He replied with a low howl that swam through the misty air across the path. It was a sound that had the Time Lord below her skid to a sloppy stop in the mud.

Tiallu leapt forward two more limbs, then leapt across the full width of the pathway, directly in front of the Time Lord. She leapt limb to limb to take her to the ground to land at her mate’s side. She nipped playfully at his shoulder, he nuzzled his nose against hers, then as a couple, they strode out of the trees and into the moonlight ahead of the Time Lord....

...who immediately fell back on his backside in the mud, one hand held out in front of him in desperate pleading for them to leave him be....

~~oooOOOooo~~

The movement of bluish white that flashed past the pathway in front of Narvin almost had both hearts stop completely inside his chest.

With the thick and luminescent fur that glowed blue in the moonlight, the thick and large bulk, the tick whip of a tail, and the piercing blue eyes, it left no doubt at all in his mind that he was the current prey of a Gallifreyan wolf.

Resigned to suffering an imminent death, he stilled completely and recited long forgotten prayers inside his mind. Prayers that included the hope that this beast was acting alone.... oh, he knew full well it wasn’t ... but he could hope.

The crack of small twigs and leaves above let him know that the wolf was dropping down from the trees and onto the ground. Unusual, as they weren’t often opposed to dropping down from a high limb on to their prey if they had a good vantage point of attack.

He remained still in place. His muscles locked rigid and tight. He tried to hold his breath, but he couldn’t hold back the huff and pant of terror.

His eyes snapped hard to his left when the brush rustled loudly and the large faces of Gallifrey’s most feared animals emerged from the darkness.

A pair... and obviously a mated pair.

He stood no chance at all of getting out of this alive.

The reaction of his hearts to that realization was to hammer hard against his rib cage. The thunder of them drove him in a backward lean so deep that he stumbled straight onto his arse into the mud. He lifted his hand with a whimper for help from the gods to please save him.

“Please,” he said pathetically as the two animals strode toward him in a slow stalk, their heads down and their eyes piercing.

The watch on his wrist lit up a bright yellow and it buzzed angrily on his wrist. Narvin had no chance to decline or accept the communication before a bright day of light shot out from a small dial on the edge.

The image of Braxiatel appeared to the edge of the path. “By Rassilon, Narvin, what are you doing?”

Narvin looked up with urgency and complete terror marring his roguishly handsome face. Terror shifted to petulance as he pointed toward the wolves. “I’m about to become wolf food,” he snapped in reply. “I thought I’d give this pair a little extra protein by covering myself in mud.”

“Not in any imminent danger then,” Braxiatel drawled slowly. “If you have time to do that.”

“My final words will be just how much I hate you,” Narvin ground out through a snarl.

“I have already dispatched a chancellery guard to your location with instructions to neutralize the animals.” Braxiatel said with a sigh as his image slowly turned to see the wolves both seated curiously together in the grass on the edge of the pathway. His head tilted to one side and he exhaled with clear frustration. “Right. I'll cancel the guard,” he drawled.

“What?!”

He turned back to Narvin. “Romana and I have secured a skimmer for this evening. Stay where you are and we’ll drop by and pick you up.”

“Pick up my dead body, you mean,” Narvin snarled.

“Please don’t offer delights that you aren’t actually going to offer.”

“I’m being serious,” he growled. “They’re going to eat me.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he replied. “Trust me. You’ll be fine.”

“I know that your hologram probably can’t see them, Brax,” but I have two Dahrama wolves standing here, licking their lips, sharpening their claws....”

Braxiatel turned to the pair, who were now venturing closer, their noses carefully snuffling the ground where his holographic feet were. “Don’t eat him,” he said flatly to them. “He’s all sinew and tendon. All chewy with zero nutrition. Probably give you heartburn as well.”

All Narvin could do was watch in complete horror. “You aren’t seriously thinking that you have that much authority on this planet that a pair of wolves will obey you.”

Braxiatel wore a smirk. “Actually, I do.” He turned to the wolves and gave a shrill whistle through his teeth. “Off you go. Both of you.” He clapped his hands. “I’m not messing around. This is ....”. He growled. “Bad wolves, both of you!”

Tiallu backed off a step, her head down and an expression of guilt in her eyes. Soliarn’s expression was dark and dangerous that threatened to bite Narvin simply because: _Brat_.

Braxiatel’s hologram set his fists onto his hips and he glared a look toward the wolf. “Go home,” he demanded.

Narvin fought the urge to uselessly hide behind the hologram of Braxiatel. It was a pointless endeavour, of course. There was very little that a hologram could do against two rather large and .... and very hungry looking wolves....

However. This was Braxiatel. Who knew just what magic he could conjure.

Narvin stepped behind him just ... well ... just because.

“How are they listening to you?” He hissed through his teeth.

“I would suspect with their ears,” Braxiatel drawled. “Really, Narvin, did you fall asleep during basic biology at the academy?”

“Stop being facetious,” he snapped. He sniffed and yelled when he heard the crack of twigs from one of the wolves moving in front of him. “I’m dead, aren’t I? They’re going to eat me.”

Braxiatel sighed deeply. “No such luck, I’m afraid.” He clapped his hands sharply again. “Soliarn, back off. I’m warning you, leave this one alone. He might be a small and precious looking little snack for you to gnaw on for a while, but trust me. Not worth the level of grief that you’ll receive for doing it.”

Soliarn raised his head and let out a long and frustrated howl up to the moon. At his side, Tiallu joined his chorus, but with far less frustration inside her voice.

“If it wasn’t life or death,” Narvin snarled. “I’d comment on the small and precious remark...”

“And yet, you do,” Braxiatel said with a shake of his head. He then flicked his hands and the two wolves. “Now off with you both. Back to your home. Don’t you dare make me call Rose to come and find you ....”

Braxiatel exhaled with a victorious “ahhhhh” when Tiallu pawed at the ground and nuzzled at her mate. “That’s right. I have her on speed dial ...”

Narvin dared to look around Braxiatel’s hologram. He could see the indecision in the female’s eyes, and then the look of pure darkness inside the male.

“How are you able to do this?” He questioned with clear surprise in his tone. Realisation then dawned and he exhaled the breath that had been held inside his chest. “They’re your brother’s animals, aren’t they?”

“Not quite,” Braxiatel warned quietly. “More Rose’s beasts than his. And still quite volatile - particularly Soliarn - so please don’t let your guard down just yet.”

Narvin swallowed, particularly when Soliarn gave a huffed whuff.

“I am not playing games,” Braxiatel threatened with a deepening voice. “You have until the count of three, and then I am phoning Rose. I can assure you of her displeasure at a call of this nature ... particularly considering she and Thete haven’t been out together in ... well ... in quite some time.”

Tiallu gave a light nip at Soliarn’s ear. Then she nudged his shoulder with hers. A soft sound from the very back of her throat had her mate’s immediate attention. The meal, Brax, the hunt, all forgotten as she practically purred at him, then took off into the woods.

He was unquestionably and without pause, right on her heels.

Narvin exhaled gratefully. “Oh, thank Rassilon....”

Braxiatel hummed. “Yes, I suppose Rassilon had everything to do with that, didn’t he? I did nothing at all...”. He sniffed indignantly. “Romana and I will be leaving momentarily and should be at your location within five microspans. Do I need to bring you anything? A change of clothing, perhaps? Fresh change of underwear?”

“I hate you.....”

~~oooOOOooo~~

Once more the song of the forests, the light of the moon, and the crisp breeze were all that surrounded Tiallu and her dedicated, love drunk mate.

Lain together in a thick tuft of unkempt red grasses, she nuzzled playfully at his chest. She sighed happily when he nuzzled back at her rather than give a disinterested and tired grunt as he might usually offer her.

She pawed at the tall grass, which seemed to hide the both of them well enough and peered across the orchard toward the house that waited quietly for their return.

It was dozing in the darkness and quiet, much like her mate was readying to do. She could see the tiredness of the home. She could see it in the smallest shift in the dim lights from within. A quiet doze was always good for a quick recharge.

Tiallu’s two-legged companions would return soon. They would expect a home brightly lit and welcoming to the both of them. They would also expect their two protective beasts waiting for their return.

With a muzzle at her almost dozing mate, Tiallu gave him a light whuff.

He grunted in reply and whimpered out. He didn’t wish to move.

She nuzzled his neck. He captured her in his front paws. She whined and wriggled free.

After another whuff of encouragement from Tiallu, Soliarn finally uttered out a half groan/half howl sound, then drew himself to his feet. He shook his entire body, from nose to tail, stretched his back with a drop down to his chest in the dirt, then gave his mate a light touch of his nose to hers.

Together, they walked shoulder to shoulder back toward the house, entering through the ajar kitchen door.

The house woke from its own nap and lit up the way toward the living room for the two wolves. Together, they lay on a big and comfy bed designed just for the two of them by the Doctor and waited for their companions to return.

The two wolves nuzzled and snuggled together, their ears pricked high, waiting for the sound of the skimmer that would bring the Doctor and Rose home from their evening out.

~~oooOOOooo~~

With her mate snoring lightly behind her, his nose against her throat, Tiallu watched the doorway. In the distance she could hear an approaching craft. She lifted her head and kept her eyes tight on the doorway, wanting to appear as though she had spent the entire evening on guard for the home. Perhaps this might convince her companions to offer her some raw meat as a snack. After the events of the evening, she was feeling quite peckish ....

The craft hovered outside the door for a moment, and then took off again. She could hear the engines quickly retreating back into the distance.

The door opened quickly, and Tiallu readied to get up, greet, and ask for food. She stilled in place, and even backed up a little against her mate’s chest when she saw the hurried movements of her two bipedal companions.

Rose had the giggles much like she had earlier in the evening. The Doctor, he was pawing and being playful, nuzzling at his mate and purring against her ear.

Tiallu couldn’t quite understand the language of the words being shared between them, but she definitely understood the language of their bodies. Rose was playfully avoiding yet enticing the touch of her mate. The Doctor was being playfully persistent and clear with his desires toward his mate.

Tiallu blinked slowly and watched in a curious manner. Companions for a couple of years now, but she’d never much given thought toward the mating instincts of the non-wolf entities in this house.

It surprised her to note that the Doctor was very similar to her own mate when he was in a frisky mood.

When Rose let out a squeak and took off toward the bedroom with a turn of invitation just before she disappeared into the hallway, Tiallu determined that she was very much like her as well. The Doctor took that invitation immediately and followed with a low growl inside his chest.

Very curious.

Not daring to interrupt, she merely let out a sigh and shifted back deeper inside her mate’s furry, warm chest.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Doctor Who, Gallifrey, or anything anywhere near as fun .... I am just playing around in their playground for a bit....


End file.
